Something is happening. A tsunami. An undersea earthquake. The abyss speaks. TAK Mitt used to rap Jay’s tank for attention, a muffled underwater gong. This is like that, but everywhere and everything. The current gets stormier. It spins Jay, skids him parallel to the cliff. He’s got no control. He skews under one of the squid’s long tentacles, all it has to do is flex and Jay will be snagged, a parcel for deep-sea drowning. But the squid looks equally stunned, jelly quivering with every TAK, TAK, TAK, a cannonade Jay receives as a series of blows to his sternum.
