(It's) Always There
Copyright© 2026 by Daniel Tors
Chapter 26
Its weight was heavy on one side, light the other. The last page.
Navy read, “‘That final day on the water ... Suppose I should tell you about it.’”
“‘I knew it was the last. I knew for a long time. My body didn’t, and I can’t help but feel the running sap in my heart on that boat – deep in the ocean, deep in myself, deep in the shallows – is even possible to tell you of in words. Part of why is because the sensation at the day only made sense after I had left. The job was normal. I, and three others, went out before morning, so early in it the sun wasn’t out or showing us as it would be soon. Sailing took little effort, though each had a role, and all participated. My fur was caked with salt, with the seas rolling breeze that hadn’t met another for days; it would not meet another perhaps ever, nor did it care either way. It bashed into us. We moved through it. Both carried on. Completely surrounded by a place that’s only way of acknowledging our existence was parting its waves, swift return to normalcy, an imprint gone yet remembered in ways it would only tell us if we knew how to ask. Only we, those on the water, could see the vast, of what knew of us yet didn’t care. Only we, using instruments designed by others, could enter the crushing soup that all life came from, and understood the presence of in the backs of their minds – come, itself, from the ocean. The suits and equipment were prepared as usual. We rolled back-first into the pool we came from. Unlike those that study places on or of physical ground, there are no “locations” in the ocean, not above its floor. You can go to identical coordinates, and unless you put something there yourself, or dig into the ground, its composition will always be different. Boundaries are a concept made by man. Turf and regions are sculpted in the heads of fish as patterns waiting to trigger; by a change in temperature, a different pattern of light, light itself, the weight over them, is what keeps beings of the ocean in the places they should be. It’s how we know where to find them, and what they like. They’re simple, and unendingly complicated ... and I get to see them. They see me, and react, swishing around me, rapid-fire wondering, over and over, if I’m a predator or if I’m useful. Could they eat something on me? No, mustn’t be that. And they’re gone; looked in the eye, and never seen again. Most, I’ll remember for longer than they could live. The smart ones will know me for much, much longer, as ... whatever I am. The sight of me strikes their heads, creating a pattern of the alien they’ve seen before, yet did nothing but exist around them, perhaps watching, perhaps doing a thing they couldn’t possibly comprehend, and then I’m gone.’”
“‘Nothing special happened when I dived for the last time. We went down, we did our job, we were cautious, we returned to the boat. I was cautious. My heart was beating. I focused on what I should do, and how to do it right, and how to not cause trouble, and though I’ve been inside the ocean for years of my life, somewhere I used to live and love returning to, I know it’s dangerous. Though he may be my relative millions of times removed, a shark does not see me as a brother. At best, his evolution dictates his life is not dire enough to eat me right this second – I’d taste bad, or might be threat. My suit is only protective enough to not worry my wife too horribly every day I trust my life with it. If poisoned, I would need treatment. If paralyzed, I would need to be saved. If I come up too fast, my head will spin and my body will fail. If I stay down in my ancestor’s home too long, I’ll die, and my diving partner could meet any of the same fates. And I get to know all of this. And I do it anyway. And I get to be here. And I got to be there. I got to try and understand it. I get to remember it ... and know that, no matter what happens to the ocean, it will remember me in its own way.’”
“‘We stayed on our boat for a couple hours longer than usual. I knew that this would be my last time out there, and so did they. Nobody said it because nobody had to. That was the truth. The sunset glinted at my back, off the place I could never go back to. My body isn’t well anymore. Any further, and I’d risk never coming up again. Fate has taken it from me by illness I cannot control. And I got to see it at all. And I could meet the breeze that doesn’t know people. And I got to know people that love it as much as I do. I got to know the ocean, and tell people of what’s in it, and sit in my chair writing this, thinking of the place that made me. I get to share it all with you.’”
She closed the book. Case’s head rest on her shoulder, fast asleep, still upright in bed with her. “The End,” and she’d be happy to read again from where they left off ... as many times as he liked.
... It was night. Holding their book, in their bed, on their comforter, Navy was quiet.
She couldn’t sleep.
...
...
...
Tomorrow will be a day like they’ve been having. They will get up, and work alone, and work with others – Navy in her field, Case in his tower, Navy and whoever needs help, Case and whoever needs things moved. Except tomorrow, when things are how they have been, Hane won’t take over for Case. What he’ll probably do is not meet them at all ... until night.
Tomorrow, when Navy can’t sleep again, someone will be in their home; he who will approach their open door, knocking lightly for attention he already had, will be a man almost left. Her ears will perk to a thrum, the whisper they catch, “Can I come in?”
She’ll allow it, bedside come to, the wolf “out like a rock.”
... They’ve never spoken, not truly. So when the leader avoids his intention, they’ll share a first and last, where their persons will finally connect. It won’t be real, but he’ll give more than she’d ever gotten before. “ ... How’s your friend? The girl.”
Everybody heard they’d gone out, prompted by Mallory, though she’d blab like he hadn’t.
“How are you?” And she’d be okay. She’d share no more than a little.
None of that was why he’d shown. Hane will ask if she knows, and yes, Case told her. Only a few days before this her boyfriend told his secret, and it hurt, at first. In time she understood what he meant by, “I didn’t think you’d get it,” because she probably wouldn’t have. Plainly, they all knew this, Hane was leaving to die his own way. He could live longer, and had decided not to ... and Navy wouldn’t have gotten that. Really, it’s something for them to get, she’s just letting it happen.
It’s Hane’s decision. When given the chance to say goodbye, Navy will jostle the man at her side and coax him to a calm, unnatural raise from slumber with, “Case ... It’s time to wake up, Casey,” though only if they’re alone, to not be embarrassing. In a short time he’ll be lucid and know what’s happening and will go to his call, his partner following ... not too close. This is for them. It will be difficult for them ... for Case, but she’ll be there. The man who saved them is leaving, yet, as important to her life as Hane is, they’ve known each other longer, and better. She understands the decision. Someone, her someone, might doubt it that day and many after, but it’s Hane’s decision. They understand it. For days and weeks and months after, Case may doubt what they did, but she’ll be–
“You’re not going.”
... Uh...?
In their living room, Hane did not react. He was ready to leave.
Case said again, certain, “You’re not going.”
What was it in her chest that knew what was happening. What was it. It felt wrong.
The commander did not change. “I tried to make this easy. It still can be.”
“Why are you leaving.” That was an order. The wolf had not changed.
What was it in her skull that knew so little. What was it. This would hurt. He is colder.
To his soldier, Hane gave a solution. “Okay,” and ... Navy watched. “Beat me.”
“...?”
“You get one chance. Knock me to the floor, and I’ll stay.”
Was he fucking serious. “That’s moronic.”
Hane went near to the corner of the largest open space. One arm behind. “You’re young. You want something, so make it happen.”
“I won’t–”
“Ten seconds.” The wolf did not square to him. Upright, neutral of stance, the mountain bored ahead, not into the wolf’s eyes. A mist of heat and power and saliva sprayed with his words, “Rip it out and beat me.”
Close. “No.”
My tone will not falter, for this is what I believe. “Because you’re weak. Because you don’t have it. You’re not me. You get good men killed, and do nothing to stop it. I’m leaving because your presence fills me with miserable hate of what shouldn’t have lived. This place is for you, not me. I don’t wish you death, but we should have never met.” Hane saw into him, “Is that what you wanted?” and left.
...
What do I do?
He looks ... He’s not moving.
Um...
...
Navy impended upon him, back to her. He’s not moving. Take him by the forearm. “Case?”
...
What am I doing.
I see a boy.
I see something in him.
I see a boy that changed.
I see a boy that could be different.
I see him turn on the inside.
I see him drowning.
I see a man drowning in me.
He’s not breathing.
What am I doing.
The girl asks again, “ ... Case?”
...
His expression was nothing.
What is it in my chest that tells me things. It feels wrong. But I move. I move, for it tells me to.
His expression was nothing, yet Case took Navy by the arm as she moved away.
What is it in my head that knows the words he’ll say. Why do I know this.
Case was nothing. He begged, “Please don’t leave.”
To comfort, her mouth made sounds, and they made sense.
Why am I outside.
Why am I moving.
What is this for.
The man walking away gets closer.
I move faster.
I see the beginnings of dawn.
But it’s still night.
Why am I talking.
What am I saying to him.
“You can’t go.”
No response.
Who is he.
“Why are you going?”
“I told you.” He had.
... They did not face. She had to keep up.
“But it’s dangerous.”
“I don’t care.” He didn’t.
“But you’re o-our leader.”
“You’re safe. Job done.” It was.
“But you have a job here.”
“I’m wasted space. They don’t need me.” They didn’t.
“Y-you’re not-t ... you right now. You’re not like this.”
“Sure.”
Who is he.
Why am I here.
“I don’t want you to die.”
“I don’t care.” Yes he did. He saved me.
He has to stay. She has to make him. “Stop an–”
Grabbed, twisted, hurt, put on the grass, bristled with dew. “Don’t touch me. Go home.”
But ... she had to. He was wrong, and she had to.
The man couldn’t go.
Her knee didn’t work like normal, but she got up, went to him, and didn’t care who heard them in the dead of night. Draw from within, stand tall, and belt deep, “LISTEN TO ME.”
...
A chance is all she’ll get.
...
...
And what she could muster is, again, “You’re not you right now. You’re not like this ... because you’re good.”
“Am I.” He’d stopped. He thought.
Recount. Remember. Tell her. “Do you know me? Do you know who I’ve met. Do you know what I’ve done. Do you know what other people do to the people they find. They’re cut open, they get their limbs sawn off, the skin on their face comes loose and their eyes melt in boiling water, girls get their cunts split open by rusted knives they piss themselves on, boys are emasculated and fed their own balls, both are cauterized so they die instead from infections or starvation or beating or strangling or because their minds couldn’t handle being brutally raped for the hundredth time, but the people that have them like it when they scream, so to get them feeling again they’re set on fire and left until their body is charred and every touch is unbearable agony, then they’re raped again until they’re boring and don’t fight anymore ... In my life, I’ve seen this and worse, and I would subject you to all of it if it was the best option for us to live. If I thought The Nashville Gang would accept you and leave us alone, that would’ve been your life.”
...