Makoona Read online

  All Kemar could do now was watch the fish racing past him. He pictured himself kneeling on the hard rope with Phan standing behind him swinging the bamboo pole. Others would enjoy watching his punishment. However, Kemar was mistaken. This time, it would be different. He would be punished, but not with rod or rope.

  The mushroom coral sat majestically at the entrance to the reef. Its tentacles were expanded so it looked more like an anemone than coral. The clownfish, however, knew the difference. They preferred the anemone.

  Like most parts of the reef, this little outcrop was inhabited. A half dozen cleaner shrimp, almost invisible were it not for minute strands of purple and pink running through their translucent bodies, worked furiously, tending the coral. They were a tiny speck among the living mosaic of corals, sponges, ascidians, and algae, all teeming with life and activity. If ever there was an underwater city, it would be found hidden in the coral.

  Just beyond the mushroom coral and the little shrimp sat a violet sponge flecked with white. At least it appeared to be a violet sponge flecked with white. Actually, it was an octopus. And her name was Binti.

  There isn’t another creature on Earth more skilled at camouflage than the octopus. In addition to being able to change color instantly, they can also emit an underwater smoke screen that’s actually made of ink. And what few other creatures realize is that many octopuses can also change their shape as well as the texture of their skin. At the moment, Binti looked exactly like a violet sponge. That was good news for Binti but bad news for the crab who was chasing an injured goby.

  Panicked by the crab and so fooled by the octopus masquerading as a sponge, the wounded fish chose to hide in Binti, who was waiting for the crab to pursue its meal. Fortunately for Binti, the goby didn’t mimic the pearlfish, who often seeks sanctuary by swimming up the rear end of a sea cucumber.

  When the crab brushed against the octo-sponge, Binti came to life, reared up, and dropped on the crustacean like a living net. She worked the crab toward her mouth, bit through the shell with a small, sharp beak, and delivered a powerful poison that would immediately end the struggle.

  The injured fish, a young goby named Dakada, swam up to Binti and said, “Thanks for saving my scales.”

  Binti replied, “I’m the one who should thank you for delivering my dinner.”

  “Better to deliver dinner than be dinner,” Dakada pointed out. And then he swam off, hiding under some platter coral.

  Binti inched up to him and assumed the color, shape, and texture of the coral so that she didn’t give either of their locations away. She whispered, “Did you hide in me because you knew I was an octopus and I’d eat that crab or because you thought I was a sponge?”

  Dakada peered out from under the coral, winked, and responded, “I thought you were a sponge. I had no idea you were actually an octopus.”

  “Good answer,” Binti said as she crawled away with the crab tucked beneath her, held tightly in a large sucker.

  Now, Binti was faced with an important decision: to eat the crab there or take it to her den. Either choice involved enormous risk, because although the octopus is the queen of camouflage, beyond that, the creature is virtually defenseless to those who prey upon it.

  Having no bones, no claws, a diminutive beak, and being a relatively slow swimmer in open water without much swimming stamina for the long runs, Binti was constantly concerned about being spotted and attacked. Those she feared the most were sharks, barracuda, grouper, sometimes snappers (especially in packs), the occasional dolphin, and, of course, humans. But more than any creature in or above the sea, Binti feared the moray eel.

  So the question remained: what to do with the catch? There were three choices. One, take the crab into a nearby hole or crevice and eat it there. The problem with that choice was that Binti didn’t know if something dangerous was already in the nearby hole or crevice.

  Two, eat the crab under some coral awning or rocky overhang, the problem with that solution being that Binti was perilously open to predators, especially with remnants of crab floating all around her. On the reef, that’s a real attention getter.

  Three, hold the crab tightly, bury it under her so it would be virtually sealed, and move slowly along the bottom back to her hollow.

  After careful consideration, the octopus decided to take her meal to go. Binti moved slowly, rhythmically, pausing often to test the waters. She could sense danger and had the ability to feel minor ripples against her smooth flesh. Binti also had the ability to identify chemical traces in the sea. In fact, her body functioned like a super-sensitive giant tongue. She literally tasted chemicals in the water and used that to help determine what shared her reef. At the moment, Binti tasted nothing out of the ordinary. She felt safe.

  She swam under a rocky overhang. In the shadows, she turned black. But Binti couldn’t see very well, so she crawled out from under the rock and climbed on top of it. When she reached the summit, the octopus disappeared, replaced by a bright orange sponge that swayed in the current like several others clinging to the rock. Convinced that she was unseen, Binti was surprised to hear, “So, my friend, will we be eating when you get home?”

  “Shhh,” she answered. “Sponges don’t talk.”

  “True, but octopuses do.”

  “Well, if you give me away and I’m forced to run, neither of us will get to eat.”

  “Ah, but if I give you away and a barracuda comes down here . . . By the way, there’s one right up there trying to hover in the glare of the sun. Do you see him?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “Good. If he was to swim down here and you were to flee, you’d have to drop that crab. And while that barracuda chased you all over Makoona, I’d take good care of that crab for you. I would definitely make sure no one else got it, I promise.”

  “But then, little blowfish, what kind of friend would you be?”

  “One with a full stomach, but also one with one less pal.”

  “Well, Hootie, the question is what’s worth more: a friend or a crab?”

  “Tough question. Might depend on who the friend is. Ah, I suppose I’ll sacrifice a full stomach in the name of our august association.”

  Suddenly, involuntarily, the octopus changed its color to an alarming red. The smaller blowfish puffed and extended its fins. Danger had arrived.

  A pair of horrified red snappers shot past Hootie and Binti. It was evidence of trouble—big trouble. When a fish that might normally eat you swims by without so much as a nod, it usually means it’s swimming for its life. Usually, this is the result of another predator—a bigger, nastier, meaner one. A predator that might very well change its mind and have you for dinner instead. So when the snappers are panicking, it’s wise to err on the side of caution. Both Binti and Hootie concluded instantly that whatever made them flee like that was probably pretty nasty.

  Then the two friends heard it. They felt the unmistakable surge underwater. The octopus and the blowfish knew what was happening, and like the snappers, they, too, fled.

  There was another vibration in the water. A school of tuna raced past them. An agitated gray reef shark darted by, followed by a scrambling young turtle. To the casual observer, it looked like the shark was fleeing from the tiny turtle, when in reality, they were all running from the same thing.

  The vibrations became more pronounced. There was no mistaking it. The man-tide approached. Nothing churned the water up quite the same way. The humans swam so clumsily, yet their arrival was so deadly. As they’d done many times before, Binti and Hootie ran from man.

  Caught up in a chaotic mass of terrified ocean dwellers all swimming with one goal in mind—to survive—Binti spotted some of her friends. She saw the goby cleaners Fin, Gill, Wiff, Ditt, Ya Ya, and Dakada. They were led by Paykak. She spotted Fraco, the ancient, wise, and gentle grouper (when he had a full belly) fleeing for his life. Rising to the surface, she spotted Jaqu the turtle, no doubt trying to size up the situation by slipping his head above the water.
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  Binti was also swimming with predators. Barracuda, bonita, and a stone fish raced by her, paying no attention to the opportunity she and Hootie presented for a quick meal. The man-tide had a way of galvanizing the residents of the reef. Even mortal enemies came together when united in fear against man, all part of a full-blown swimpede.

  Binti could see the humans now. Their awkward limbs kicked and thrashed as they moved slowly and deliberately forward. Even though they were so obviously out of place in the water, the humans were, in their own way, masters of it. One need only see a reef shark flee in terror to understand that.

  Binti spotted a pearl perch named Sa Rah. The octopus called out to her friend, “Where should we go?” The scare lines were almost bumping Hootie’s tail fin.

  Sa Rah yelled, “The turtle! Ask the turtle!”

  “Jaqu!” Binti called. “Where should we swim?!”

  Looking down from the surface, Jaqu shook his head. “They are everywhere! Ask the tuna!”

  Several tuna darted back and forth between the scare lines and the net. If there was an escape route, these swift open-sea swimmers would surely have seen it.

  Hootie chased one, screaming, “How do we get out?”

  The tuna paid no attention. They blew by the blowfish and then swept past again from the opposite direction. It was clear they were as terrified as the others and didn’t know how to get away either.

  Binti could now see the scare lines and the nets which would sweep her from the sea. She stopped swimming and turned her fate over to the spirit-fish. Immediately, without any thought on her part, Binti found herself following the advancing perimeter of the man-tide. She stayed out of reach and out of sight and measured its expanse. The longer she spent studying the wall, the tighter its grip on the ocean creatures became.

  Binti heard a voice. It was a voice she’d heard before, an articulation from within that was her own, yet she didn’t know for sure where it came from. It was the voice that all creatures possessed, though many were skilled at ignoring it. Binti, however, believed that her inner voice revealed the truth of the spirit-fish. And while she didn’t always understand the message, she always listened.

  The octopus swam along the encircling mass of man-tide. Deep in her mantle, she heard, “You are the most skilled at deception in the sea. If you do not fall prey to one of your own devices, you will be un-tide.”

  Not quite given the answer, Binti had received guidance. Sometimes, that was all you got. And sometimes, that was all it would take. The octopus pondered the message. Was the spirit-fish, if indeed that’s who sent the message, suggesting that this entire event was a charade of some sort, that it’s not what it appears to be? Binti hesitated, uncertain. She’d seen what the man-tide could do. She’d lost friends. She’d seen ruined reefs. And they were no charade.

  Rooted in her reflections, deaf to Hootie’s howling, Binti suddenly realized the approaching wall was upon her. She panicked, scrambling away. A moment later, she grazed against the massive net and then jetted away from it as well. When a rock tied to a scare line crashed down on her arm, Binti shot herself off the ocean floor. She landed quietly and sat on a broken clam. And then it hit her—she had just passed through the moving wall!

  Carefully but quickly, the octopus swam back through the scare lines, which were now moving away from her. She passed through the wall again. Had the spirit-fish bestowed her with special powers? Binti reached out two arms and touched the shaking lines. They didn’t hurt, and they didn’t hold. The wall was a façade! It didn’t exist, at least not to the degree the fish believed. The answer wasn’t to run from it but rather run through it. Just as she was never actually a sponge, this wasn’t actually a wall.

  Binti jetted herself through the faux wall one last time as she swam back to find her friends. When she saw Paykak, Hootie, Fraco, Sa Rah and Jaqu all gathered together, she shouted, “I have the answer! Pass through the wall! Swim through it, not away from it!”

  But the others continued to flee.

  Binti pleaded, “Listen to me! Trust me!”

  As the shaking curtain closed in, the fish were too terrified to listen to the octopus. Through the chaos, none of them even noticed her swimming in and out of the lines. Now Binti became panicked. She understood what was happening. She understood that at any moment, a net would rise up from the bottom and claim the lives of all her friends, her family, and even her enemies. Everyone would be gone.

  That was when Binti decided to take matters into her own arms, swimming toward a single human who floated with the outermost scare line that was approaching the net. Rising to the surface, the octopus faced the creature. Their eyes connected for an instant while Binti stretched out two of her powerful arms. With one, she stroked what looked like red seaweed dangling from the human’s midsection. It fascinated and mesmerized Binti. Then she gently laid the tip of another arm on the human’s hand, the one that grasped the scare line.

  Her intent was to hold that hand and then pull the line free with two of her other arms, but Binti never had the opportunity to complete her plan. She didn’t have to. Her eyes stayed locked on the human’s eyes. Binti saw deeply into the creature and was surprised how much they appeared to have in common. The human tilted his head up, closed his eyes momentarily, and then released the line, floating where he was, expressionless.

  The octopus dove below and called to the creatures of Makoona, who were now herded into a tight ball as the net began to rise.

  “The wall has collapsed!” Binti bellowed. “Escape! There is a hole!”

  Fraco saw the hole and rushed through it. Immediately, Sa Rah and Jaqu followed. Soon, the entire community poured through the opening. Binti was rolled and bounced like a shell in the surf under the surge of the swimpede. As she rose up and dusted herself off, Binti was pleased to see an empty net being pulled from the water.

  Hootie, who’d stayed to help others flee, was the last one out. He swam calmly up to Binti and asked, “Still got that crab? I’m pretty hungry.”

  When the octopus didn’t reply, Hootie quipped, “What good are you?” And then the disgusted blowfish swam off.

  Although he knew he’d pay for his mistake, likely with the rod and rope, Kemar was strangely amused by his decision to drop the scare line. It was something he’d never done before, and it was such an open act of defiance, it quietly pleased him.

  He was also struck by his confrontation with the octopus. Kemar knew it was nothing but chance—a mere coincidence—but swimming face-to-face with the strange octopus caused him to wonder. Had he actually felt something from the creature? Had it touched him? It was as if the octopus had understood what was happening and realized that Kemar had the power to stop the catch.

  He floated, reflecting on the bizarre circumstances, until he concluded it would be best to return to the boat. Swimming back to the vessel, Kemar could already hear the boys talking about what had happened.

  Phan, the captain, was at the railing. He wasn’t just the captain of the ship; Phan was the chief of the boat community. He was tall and thin. His hair was cut short in an effort to accentuate a scar on the side of his head. He claimed it was a badge of honor that he’d received in battle and that the one who’d inflicted it came out looking much worse than him, but Kemar doubted the story.

  In his mind, Phan was a coward and a liar who cared only about getting his hands on whatever valuables people managed to bring onto his boat. Although Phan rarely meted out punishment himself, he always seemed to enjoy the spectacle, especially when Kemar was on the receiving end. Today, Kemar was sure the rod would rake his ribs. Phan would be pleased.

  Kemar swam slowly toward the rope ladder that hung from the rail, thinking how much the salt water would sting his wounds when he returned to fish tomorrow. But the ocean could also help clean and heal. It was one of the powers that drew the Cambodian to the sea. It might be painful at times, but the ocean also healed.

  Before Kemar reached the ladder, Sambath, the b
oy who fished next to him, climbed on board. Phan grabbed Sambath, struck him, and demanded to know why all the fish had escaped from his side of the scare lines.

  Sambath, who’d never liked Kemar that much to begin with, wasn’t going to be punished for Kemar’s mistake. He pointed to his comrade and said, “It was Kemar. He dropped his line, and the fish rushed out before they hit the net. Look, he returns without his line.”

  Phan released Sambath and turned to Kemar. He looked down from the deck and asked, “Tell me the truth, you barnacle. Did you cost us our catch?”

  “I’m sorry, Phan!” the boy shouted. “The line got caught on something and slipped from my hand.”

  “That’s not true!” Sambath countered. “I saw Kemar wrap the line around his wrist when we started. We all do that so we can’t drop them.”

  Phan scanned the deck. Everyone had gathered, waiting to see what would happen to Kemar. The captain didn’t want to show weakness. Unfortunately, he wasn’t someone who understood that strength is often the ability to show mercy and weakness is more likely found in cruelty. It was the same disease the Khmer Rouge suffered from, and Kemar knew that again, he would fall victim to this distorted reasoning.

  The boy reached the ladder. As he opened his hand and stretched his arm out, Phan pulled the ladder out of his reach and over the rail. He yelled down to the puzzled youngster, “Your value was as a fisherman. And since you don’t seem to be able to do that anymore, I’ll quote your Khmer countrymen, ‘To keep you is of no benefit. To kill you is no loss.’”

  Sambath helped Phan secure the ladder. Then the boat chugged off, away from the setting sun. Kemar was abandoned on the open sea. When the stern swung around to face the boy, he could see Son Ba calling to him, but the wind snatched her words away before they reached him. She hefted a large red box on the rail. Then Mir Ta ran up to her. She struggled with him, probably thinking he was going to stop her. But Mir Ta merely wanted to help. He held a tin can in his hands, kissed it, and dropped it into the red box.