F: Still Alive

He awoke with a start. Groggily eyeing his surrounds ,for a moment
he didn't have a clue where he was. He slapped absently at his mantle
with one of his tentacles as if trying to massage out a stubbornly
imbedded splinter of memory. Moments later it dawned on him.
Immediately he wished it hadn't. . The dreams that had ripped through
his sleep of recent months had become real. Nemro, an octopus elder,
had told him the dreams were a glimpse of the future. A bleak,
frightening glimpse. One he would have love to close his eyes to. He
too had had them he had assured Grech and other members of the reef
community were also burdened with the same type of visions.

The great darkness had descended on his people and he had witnessed it
from the temporary safety of the other side of the reef. He now
recalled he had taken shelter here, as far as he could jet from the
black stench, and he had crept exhausted and weeping into this hideout,
here to wait for any survivors of his clan who would possibly pass this
run. The run was like an alley. It wound through the interior of this
region of the reef, twisting and turning but basically maintaining a
north-south path. The width varied anywhere from a mere couple of
inches to several metres at its widest with sections that were overhung
by coral and thus forming a tunnel. An effective escape route. If there
were any survivors, and they had half an idea about protecting
themselves, then this would be the route that they would take. It was
safer for them to travel along the reef alley rather than skirt the
edges of the reef as large predatory and pelagic fishes would find them
easy pickings, rushing at them from the open waters.

Grech gradually recalled the full horror. He had observed it all from
the relative safety of a section of patch coral set apart from the main
reef. The noise. It was though a school of parrot fish the size of
whale sharks were gnawing away at the reef, snapping off enormous
chunks of coral. The image of the roiling black cloud of thick, viscous
water, crowned with flame appeared in his minds eye. A disgusting taste
was in his sense glands. Taste was an excellent memory trigger.
Snippets of recall rose to the surface of his memory like air bubbles
rising from the respirator of a scuba diver. The fear and panic of the
inhabitants of the reef as they began to flee was horrible to behold.
Yet fleeing was not an option for many. Mothers stayed behind to guard
young, both hatched and unhatched. Males refused to leave their mates,
preferring to perish together. The old and desperate tried to seek
refuge deep within the network of tunnels and caverns riddling the main
body of the reef. But the black cloud was not so easily avoided. Its
evil black tendrils sought out and found every available nook and
cranny. The marine life was engulfed, choking, squealing. Oxygen was
sucked out of the water by the spreading, licking flames. A horrible
and slow demise. One never imagined by such simple, magnificent
creatures. Grech began to weep. His body wobbled with grief his colour
paled. He cried for his playmates, his teachers his guardians. The
mother reef was his family, every creature a part of him and he a part
of the very cycle that moved in perpetuity. Glancing outside the cave,
Grech watched in horror as all manner of reef creatures slowly drifted
by with the current, bumping along the bottom of the alley by a
localised current. Countless fish species, many dead some barely alive,
eyes dulled, fins twitching spasmodically and gills pumping weakly in
an attempt to pass the oxygen giving water over them. Sensing that the
poisoned waters around his home reef were spreading, he knew he had to
journey onward, locate the new home that was discussed at the reef
meeting several sunsets past.. A place to make his nest, to be with a
community again. Was he the only one to survive of his clan? His
passion for exploring his home reef, had that fateful morning led him
to the outer reaches of the reef home and probably saved his life. What
of his family? He wished the great eels would take him here and
now.

The taste of the chemical filth in the water became stronger. He knew
the cloud was still moving his way. The currents slowly spreading the
chemical evil and pushing all before it, dead or alive. Grech knew that
if he didn't move soon, he too would be one of those unfortunates
gliding lifelessly by, bumping against the bottom. The urgings of The
Moyang, the ancestral spirits of all the reef species, vibrated in his
head.

'Move on Grech, to the North. Put distance between yourself and these
poisoned waters'.

The voices were soft but insistant. He would not, nay, could not ignore
them. Gathering up his determination, Grech slid to the opening of the
coral crevice, scanned the immediate vicinity for danger, and when
satisfied slipped out into the current and took off. To where, he
wasn't sure. 'Distance is all that matters now' he mumbled. Putting his
head down and trailing his tentacles bunched tightly behind, he was
off.

After jetting for the last couple of hours with only short breaks to
try and catch a feed, Grech stopped dead in his tracks. Quickly,he
pressed himself up against the reef wall. His chromatophores reacting
in the blink of an eye, he became impossible to spot in amongst a bloom
of lilac coral. Slowly, almost ponderously, the giant Maori Wrasse
nosed along the edge of the polyps, scanning incessantly for his
dinner. A lovely large bottle green coloured fish. The magnificent
markings on the Maori wrasse look very much like the squiggly,
geometrical facial tattooing practiced by the NZ Maori, hence the name.
Tasty shellfish, virtually any small fish, crabs, you name it, anything
to satisfy his enormous appetite he was on the search for it. Grech
knew only too well the wrasse's love for the soft, tasty octopus flesh
. Two bites and he would be gone. Not a pretty thought. The wrasse
continued in Grechs' direction, before smartly making a quick turn
downwards at a blooming of brown plate coral. The wrasse nuzzled the
detritus piled at the base of the reef wall. The great fishes body was
briefly wracked by a little tremor and when he lifted his lumpy head
again there appeared the switching, twitching tail of one of his
smaller cousins, the tube lip wrasse, giving a last desperate shake
prior to sliding down his throat. Hovering on the spot the Maori wrasse
spotted more movement behind the plate coral.

'Ahh' said the Maori, 'come and join your partner', an invitation to
the little terrified mate of the recently devoured Yellowtail Tube lip.
A small torpedo shaped fish, with black and white horizontal bars and
growing to no more than several inches they were a tasty favourite of
the Maori Wrasse. Using the great hump behind his head the wrasse drove
forward and started to head butt the coral. Like a fat, stubborn, bad
tempered little boy, again and again he slammed into the plate coral.
The dull thuds vibrated through Grechs body. The female tube lip looked
on in horror, trembling in fear. Waiting for the chance to dart out and
escape his gaping maw, she pressed up against one of the plates.
Without any sign of discomfort the Maori continued to smash at the
plates with his bony protrusion. With a sharp 'crack' a large section
of the plate coral broke away exposing the quivering tube lip. In an
instant she was gone and the Maori turned in pursuit, both disappearing
from site.

'Now is my chance to put some distance between myself and that big
galoot of a fish', thought Grech. Drawing in through his valve he shot
out of his hidey hole and swiftly moved on southwards along the base of
the reef. After jetting for half an hour, his valve began to ache and
he stopped to rest in amongst the branches of a plot of lavender stag
horn coral. The coral arms stuck out this way and that, like a medusas
hairdo stiffened by a truck load of hairspray, and all in pretty pink.
A mass of parrot fish swarmed past him, like a flock of brilliantly
plumaged lorikeets, an atmosphere of fear and urgency surrounded the
school. Grech made eye contact with one of the school members

'Where are you heading' spoke Grech.

We are going to where the water is sweet, where the dark death can't
reach us. No time to talk' he gasped.

Where is this place? Take me with you&;#8230;please', he implored.
But the parrot fish did not even bother to reply, let alone stop and as
quickly as the school came upon him, they were gone, one or two
stragglers shooting by as Grech let out a sigh. Grech was a picture of
abject misery. His limp form, bouyed only by the surrounding waters,
pulsed weakly.

'I will never get on alone', he thought sadly and swam on.

An hour later Grech stopped to rest his expulsion valve. Reclining
against the reef wall, Grechs' head swam with the persistant
whisperings of the Moyang. It was imperative they urged, to move
onwards. But Grech was reluctant. Surely he was not the only octopus to
survive the 'midday blackening'. Although, Midday would have found most
at rest in their lairs, there were always those off hunting or
exploring. He himself, along with his buddies, Haggie and Krishba,
Jebaob and Flook to name a few, would often be out exploring at that
time of the day. But of course, he and his friends were relatively
young, full of energy and vigour and reluctant to spend too much time
cooped up in the nest of lairs at the home reef. Yes, he assured
himself. I will not be alone. He could feel this almost as strongly as
he felt the urgings of the Moyang.

It was then that he spied Skiff. At first he could barely make out the
shadow as it swept along the sandy trail winding through the reef. He
was moving sluggishly. There was a distinct lack of energy, both
physical and spiritual, surrounding him. He had obviously been
travelling for some time. At first he didn't recognise the cuttlefish,
a newly made friend he had acquired after an incident of foolishness
(typical of the cuttlefish), about one moon ago near the home reef. He
had crazily wrestled a Moray Eel to save the hide of a couple of dopey
cuttlefish madly offering themselves as bait for the execution of some
ridiculous caper. Ahh, he would never understand his cousins the
cuttlefish.

Quickly, Grech moved out into the middle of the trail. Skiff, head down
pulled up startled. Starring in wide-eyed disbelief, Skiff hung frozen
in mid-stream. Grechs , mantle twisted up into an octopus grin and then
they were upon each other. Clasped tightly together and entwined in
tentacles they fell in a big ball of calamari to the gritty bottom.