The water shimmered above him as he held his breath, counting to himself as fire consumed his chest. The people above him were taking too long. He was only able to hold his breath for twenty minutes whereas full-blooded Seamen held no restrictions. If only his father kept his dick in his pants when he was fifteen hundred years young.
“He has to be around here somewhere.” Ronnie, the one Java knew to be the ringleader of the Seamen Seek and Finders Group, said. “Did he get into that water?”
“Ronnie man, it’s not deep enough. It only goes up to my ankles.”
Good the guy didn’t know about the sinkhole in the middle of the washed-out area. What a break for him. Java didn’t get many of those, he’d take them when they came his way.
“There is nowhere else for him to be hiding around here.” Another person said.
How many had Ronnie brought with him? That was two different speakers, and Ronnie was known for traveling with at least five at all times, but did all of them follow him when he came after him? How did they even locate him? He’d stayed under the radar for the last sixty years and one hundred before then. He was talented at avoiding the Seaman Seek and Finders Group. A talent his father taught him. About the only thing he could thank the man for, besides giving him life. Then again, he wasn’t so sure he could go that far. His life sucked, majorly most of the time.
“Fine.” Ronnie’s wavering image faded out of sight from above him as the man stepped away from the semi-muddy puddle of water Java hid in. “Let’s go. We’ve lost him again. I swear to the Heavens Above, I will catch that piece of Seamen Fish Ass one day.”
Java would make sure his ass was dead and useless to him if he ever did. He wanted nothing to do with the cruelty the Seaman Seek and Finders delivered upon their captives. The rare few who survived their torture and found release were left a comatose shell of themselves. Those who escaped, which were even rarer, swore living a million and one days in the pits of Hell would be better than spending five seconds inside their walls. Java wanted nothing to do with what the Seaman Seek and Finders believed they were doing for society as a whole by capturing and studying the unusual species that walked out of the edge of the Florida coast two decades ago.
Bubbles began to flow from the corners of his lips, forcing Java to surface. It’d been quiet for several seconds. Java prayed Ronnie and his men were gone. As he surfaced, he felt the spear slam through his upper arm. His right hand flew up to the pole, yanking it free as he leapt from the water, floating over a short, choppy black-haired guy. He landed on the other side of him with his own knife pulled and held steady in front of him. A quick scan proved Ronnie only left one guy behind.
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