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Chapter 2 - Perseverance

Beneath a starless sky, ebony waves slammed against the Pacific shoreline, clawing away at the sand. The ivory glow of the moon fell to the ocean, gently resting atop the restless sea. Naked save his red swim trunks, Zack stood in the sand and scanned the tumultuous waters, waiting patiently for the tide to rise. From the sea emerged a cool gust of wind that thrashed his blonde hair and sent chills running down his spine; immediately, he regretted his decision not to bring other clothes. But his worries soon dissipated as the ocean's chilling jaws engulfed his bare feet, signaling the tide's arrival.

Zack had one mission, one which should have been easy enough given his experience as a swimmer. His only goal was to dive.

His fists clenched tight, the young man pushed forward into the water, fighting against the tide with each step. Every wave proved more forceful, more challenging than the last. Soon Zack lost his footing and was thrown back to shore. Frustrated, he exhaled and backpedaled away. Then, with a running start, he ran towards the sea, kicking up sand in his wake. He dived headfirst into the water and propelled himself through hostile swells. Every kick pushed him further into the lifeless, lightless depths, until a new gravity ensnared his body and pulled him out to sea.

Zack lost every sense in the void--except the feeling of the black water's icy jaws.

Blind, deaf, and mute, he sank deeper with each second until he hit the ground. Reaching inside the pocket of his swim shorts, Zack pulled out a small, water-proof flashlight he borrowed from his uncle then never returned. He flipped the switch, and a dull yellow light appeared on the seafloor, illuminating a school of bass until it disappeared. But then a crushing pain rang through his chest.

Without haste, Zach knew that in order to go deeper, he'd have to risk his life. Somehow, this hadn't occurred to him before. He silently cursed himself for not bringing his uncle's diving equipment and cursed the surf shop for being closed already. But as much as he wanted to turn back, this was Zack's only chance to scour the depths, and he would not leave empty-hand. So, Zack returned to the ocean floor.

He scanned the sand, but nothing resembling his target could be found. While swimming along, Zack began to feel the immense pressure build again within his chest. He could travel no further in this form, with no propeller or engine to guide him. He tried to press on, but the pressure was sapping his strength. Zack resorted to begging, pleading to whatever god was on call to take him deeper into the Pacific.

For him.

Surprisingly, Poseidon conceded to his demands. A rush of adrenaline surged through Zack's veins, perhaps the fight-or-flight reaction energizing his weakened muscles. Kicking harder than before, he propelled himself farther along the sea floor. Without notice, a strange current formed around Zack, pulling him effortlessly along; he relaxed and focused on his search, allowing nature to take its course and carry him away.

But nature had other plans.

Underwater, Zack could not hear the sounds of his ribs cracking and snapping, but he could certainly feel them breaking into pieces. Extraordinary pain surged through his body as his ribcage expanded outward, his chest barreling in the process. Electric signals of unknown origin ran down his spine, forcing him into convulsions.

He lurched forward, his face slamming into the sand, as his vertebrae began to expand with explosive force. His spine rose up against the skin of his back, threatening to pierce it. Beneath the surface, the muscles in his back gained significant mass, tightened, and cramped as a knot formed between his shoulder blades. Zack could feel this knot grew like a malignant tumor and stretch his skin out of shape, rising like a tower. In too much pain to focus, he lost whatever breath he still held and dropped the flashlight in the sand.

Zack was lightheaded, whether from the ripping force in his back or the lack of oxygen, and everything grew dark as he drifted farther from the synthetic light. But the strange current carried him along, apathetic to his agony.

Eventually, Zack awoke, and he could see the ocean surrounding him--at least, out of his left eye. Monocular vision was disorienting at first, but with the pain having dissipated, Zack figured he could forge ahead with his search. Then, he remembered what had caused his blackout.

He tried to look behind him, but for whatever reason, this proved more difficult than usual. The muscles in his neck felt extremely tight. Instead, he reached back and felt around his shoulder blades, searching for the lump. But the lump was bigger than expected.

Zack quickly pulled his hand away in shock. He had grown a dorsal fin, tall and thick. What seemed like impossibility was standing there before him, or rather behind him. His breath quickened for brief second, but he clasped his hands over his mouth when he realized he was breath underwater. Another impossibility.

A volatile mix of fear, uncertainty, and paranoia washed over Zack as he began to hyperventilate. To ease his inhalation, the perpetual current held a knife to Zack's neck and split it open three times on both sides. He clasped his hands to his neck in response and felt the six small slits pulsating under his fingers. His breathing eased, and fortunately, what felt like six slices from a straight razor was really just the size of paper cuts, at least in terms of blood loss. But blood slowly escaped from his wounds, a hint of it ran past his nose.

Zack grew hungry. He immediately thought of his aunt's succulent beef burgers, which he cooked on the grill every Sunday after church. Images of the meat burned in his mind, but soon they morphed from a charred brown to a vicious red, raw and oozing fresh blood. Though part of him found this imagery disgusting, another part craved it. Zack tried to shake off the feeling of insatiable hunger and return to his search, but as two fish floated in front of him, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

Some rational thought in the back of his mind urged him not to bite down, but in his hunger-induced stupor, Zach swore that he could feel his stomach twist and churn inside of him, enlarging and pushing into his other organs, begging to be filled.

Thus, Zack bit into the fish, felt a bone stab the roof of his mouth, subsequently spit out the corpse, and immediately regretted his decision. The taste was wholly unsatisfying. Zack ran his tongue over his teeth to remove the leftover pieces of fish. The meat left a gross, metallic taste in his mouth. But to his surprise, he found his teeth were sharper than he remembered. Far sharper. Nearly, slicing his tongue open, he retracted it with haste. He touched a finger to his left canine, and then quickly pulled away before he drew anymore blood. But as he examined his finger, Zack learned that sharp teeth were the least of his worries.

He saw clearly with his enhanced vision that thick webs of skin had grown in-between his fingers, and as if on cue, his digits were pulled closer together against his will. Zack grit his sharpened teeth, feeling like his fingers were caught in a vice grip. Effortlessly, his nails dislodged from his fingertips and drifted away, leaving Zack with a smooth, flipper-like extremity. Zack tried wiggling his fingers, but the strange appendage merely bent in response.

His heart sank. Something horrible as happening to him, and he was stuck at the bottom of the Pacific, being pulled farther away from shore with each second. There was no turning back now. Even if he wanted to, the current proved inescapable as it moved him across the seabed, nimbly jetting him through the increasingly rough terrain. Reaffirming his resolve, he continued scanning the ocean floor. It had to be here somewhere.

Zack passed his twelfth stingray. Out of boredom, he started keeping count of the non-fish life forms he encountered. And that was the twelfth stingray. Surprisingly, nothing he encountered had tried to kill him. Yet. He let out a silent sigh of relief at the thought. There were so many things he didn't consider when he embarked on this journey.

No wonder he called him empty-headed all the time.

Vision had since returned to his right eye, though his right hand had transformed to match his left. And despite his returned vision, he had no better luck in his search. Crabs, starfish, octopi, only living things came to meet him. Sheer monotony. Sheer disappointment.

But then Zach felt the skin between his toes being pinched, and he suddenly wished the journey was a bit less dynamic. As much as the thought terrified him, he had a bizarre desire to see what was happening to his feet. Zack tried to roll onto his back, but he was met with difficulty as his dorsal fin--even thinking of it as his dorsal fin gave him a stomach ache--dragged uncomfortably along the sand. He turned onto his side, still riding the current, and looked towards his feet. As he suspected, skin was growing between his toes. Soon enough, his nails were falling off. But instead of being forced together, his webbed toes began splaying.

His digits were spreading at too great an angle for his bones to support, and his phalanges snapped off. Then each digit began to elongate, like they were all made of putty and were being remolded into some avant-garde sculpture. Though the pain was far less than what Zack had experienced earlier, the feeling certainly wasn't pleasant. His toes kept grew lengthening until his feet were double their original length. And as if that was unsatisfactory, Zack clenched his fingerless hands into fists as his feet painfully compressed and flattened into his own pair of fins.

Zack was growing tired, physically and psychologically, from the changes thus far and believed rather thoroughly that he would not survive another. Or at the very least, his mental state would be permanently tarnished. He rolled back onto his stomach and continued scanning the ground; his search was the only thing keeping him sane. But the current began to decelerate, bringing Zack to a halt at the mouth of a large ravine.

The young man looked deep into the abyss. It was as black as the sky he looked up to before jumping into the sea. Steeling himself, he descended into the canyon.

Before long, Zack found what he was looking for: an enormous steel carcass, the wreckage of a cruise liner, with the name S.S. Tikari painted on the side. A large breach in the front hull allowed Zack to enter. However, navigation proved difficult on the way in. Metal beams and pipes jutted out from the interior walls.

Making his way through the ship by swimming up through holes in deteriorated floorboards, Zack reached cabin E3. Finally a spot of luck, the bolt on the door had long since rusted, so he simply pushed the door open. Handles were his mortal enemy, now that his fingers were gone.

Inside the cabin was a dresser with a large, broken mirror resting on top, a broken chandelier that had fallen to the floor, and queen-sized bed with a large bump beneath covers. Zack swam towards the bed and clasped the sheets between his hands--fins--and pulled back the sheets, revealing the bones of passenger underneath.

Tangled up in his ribcage was an oval-shaped locket. Once a bright gold, it was now covered in algae and grime. Zack let out a sigh of relief and reached out to grab it, but his forearm quickly bent towards him. Against his will, Zack found his biceps contracting and stiffening. He cried out as his arms rotated inward until his palms were flush against his pectorals. His joints locked into place, and his fin-like hands began merging with his chest. Zack tried to move his arms, but as skin began to fill in the gaps between his forearms and torso, he decided to ignore the feeling and remain calm. His journey was almost over.

With no other option, Zach begrudgingly bit through the skeleton's ribs and caught the locket's chain between his teeth. Kicking his fins, he propelled himself towards the door. But just before he left the cabin, a horrific burning sensation struck his pubic region, forcing him to drop the locket onto the floor. He felt his thighs beginning to merge. Looking down at his groin, he saw his swim trunks slowly slide down his legs. He kicked his fins furiously, struggling to remove his shorts before his legs merged entirely. Though successful in doing so, he was now stark naked, and as his legs completed their change, he found his privates jutting out from one large mound of flesh.

Zack tried to pick up the locket again, but the burning worsened as an abnormal amount of blood rushed to his member, forcing it to grow painfully erect. His libido skyrocketed, and with no hands to satisfy his urges, Zack was left with an aching need. The sexual tension overriding his sense of dignity, Zack swam back into the cabin and began rubbing himself against the deteriorated bed sheets. His thrusts grew wild, though he was careful not to touch the skeleton.

More quickly than usual, Zack climaxed, catapulting his seed into the water. Though a wave of relief and pleasure washed over him, it was quickly replaced with a caustic ache in his penis. Afraid of what he might find, Zack rolled onto his side and looked down to see the head of his still-erect member pulsating rapidly.

He tossed and turned in bed, crying, slamming his head into the mattress. Every fiber of his being screamed in pain as the head of his penis lengthened to a distinctive point and split in two. His entire shaft separated into two claspers, and his scrotum subsequently retreated inside of him.

On the verge of blacking out again, Zack lay in bed in the fetal position. Panting softly, he felt more aches run through the lower half of his body, but they were negligible in comparison to his member transforming. His hip joints locked up and forced his conjoined legs straight back. With a pained look, he could feel his spine extend into his new tail. His ankles merged and rotated 90 degrees, leaving him with a vertical fin. As his spine finished growing, Zack felt his neck realign, forcing him to look straight ahead. He squeezed his eyes shut. Simultaneously, his head was exploding and imploding.

Zack felt his skull being crushed from the top down, but widening on both sides. Slowly, he turned onto his stomach as his skull grew horizontally. His jaw snapped open as another set of razor teeth bloodily emerged from his gums. He was, for all intents and purposes, a hammerhead. A fleshy, peach-colored hammerhead. This was the price he had to pay.

The shark once known as Zack opened his pitch black eyes as the entirety of his skin grew coarse and turned a depressing grey. He was looking at two opposite sides of the room. Regaining his strength, he skimmed across the floorboards and caught the locket chain in his mouth before leaving the cabin. The current carried him home.

The sky burned in a deep viridian, the horizon flaring in the iridescence of dawn. A young blonde sat in her wheelchair on the boardwalk, observing the brilliant scene. Though he dressed in pristine blue dress, he looked terribly fragile. The IV hooked to his chair dripped every few seconds. He looked down at the note in his lap. Meet at the shore at tomorrow at dawn.

He scanned the sands for him, but no luck. A burly man in a black suit approached his from behind. He spoke in a gravelly voice.

"I'm sorry, Celia."

"There's no sign of him?" He asked in a surprisingly strong alto tone.

He shook his head and took hold of her chair's handles. "You shouldn't be out here much longer."

A stern look crossed his face. "I'm not leaving yet."

"Dr. Reese warned you about missing you treat-."

"This is my last birthday," she interjected.

He bit his lip.

"That's what he said, right? This is the last birthday we'll share. So, how many more times do you think I'll get to see him, Dorian?"

He sighed and let go of the chair.

"Oregon's not that far."

"I'm hardly in any condition to travel."

Waves crashed on the shore.

"And so he's here. What did you buy for him this year?"

Celia smiled. "Diving gear, so he doesn't have to borrow yours anymore."

"I never let him use mine." Dorian laughed, "Once, he borrowed my survival kit and never returned it. I certainly don't trust him with an oxygen tank."

The waves rose and fell, depositing a large mass on the beach in front of them. Dorian squinted.

"Please remain here," he commanded and walked towards the water.

He knelt down as Celia watches from a distance. He stayed in that position for a minute or two.

"Uncle Dorian?" He shouted. He rose.

"It's not human," he relayed, making his way back from the sands.

Celia yelled, "Aren't you going to help it?"

He stood before her, looking down with a grave expression. "It's not breathing either. But it was carrying this in its teeth. Somehow."

Dorian handed his a golden locket.

"Is this..." He hesitated. "I thought it was lost at sea?"

"It was," Dorian replied. "My mother carried it with his wherever he went. But I never gave up hope that I'd find it again, and that I'd pass it on to you."

Celia stared at the locket in his hands, in awe of its polished shine.