They got up and started running again, but by this time Skink had already crested the dike. When they reached the other side, he was gone, vanished into the seam of the universe. As the flares burned out, the red glow drained from the sky and the crystal darkness returned to the marsh.
A washboard ripple lingered on the quiet pool. Frogs peeped, crickets trilled, waterbugs skated through the bulrushes. There was no sign of the great fish, no sign of the man.
“Hear it?” Decker asked.
Catherine brushed the insects away and strained to listen. “I don’t think so, Rage.”
“Something swimming.” The gentlest of motions, receding somewhere out in the Glades. Decker was sure of it.
“Wait,” Catherine said, taking his arm, “now I do.”
The End