Mike brought Scott to the lava beds. One of the volcanoes was erupting, though it wasn’t throwing spectacular gouts of flame and lava. Lava was black, like glass, but underneath was liquid fire.
Mike made an offering of a coin, which was quickly swallowed up by the lava. He didn’t know if that was what Pele would want.
The guide at the lava fields explained that the volcano had been erupting for months now. The lava flow was threatening a town, and there was no way to stop it. “If you dig a trench, it fills. If you build a wall, it climbs. Pele goes where She wishes.”
“How does one talk to Pele?” Mike asked. “Ask her to stop?”
The guide shook his head. “I don’t know of anyone who talks to Pele,” he said. “Unless they want Her to violently change something, and then it might not be what the person wants.”
“Be careful what you wish for, I get it,” said Mike. “Do you know anyone who might know of any of Pele’s priests?”
“You don’t want to press Her,” said the guide, walking away.
Mike sighed. He had asked nearly everywhere they went, asked all the natives about priests of Pele. No one had given him any direction. He was getting frustrated.
After visiting the lava beds, they went to the nearest beach which wasn’t far at all from their house. “They have surfboards for rent,” said Scott, pointing at a collection of huts near the beach.
Mike shrugged. “Why not,” he said, and they went to the huts one by one, before finding one that would give some basic lessons along with the surfboard.
Mike stood at the edge of the beach and watched as his husband and the very handsome blond instructor paddled out into the waves. He smiled, thinking that maybe he should let Scott have the man himself, but Scott waved at him to come out. Mike paddled out.
The instructor introduced himself as Dylan, and was a lithe, wiry man, about Mike’s age, maybe a couple of years younger. He was tanned almost black from the sun, and his hair bleached blond from the sun and surf. He gave them safety tips first. Mike half-listened, watching his husband trying not to blush whenever Dylan talked to him. Then he showed them how to get up on the board, and how to properly fall off. Mike was very good at the falling off, as he kept slipping on the smooth, wet board. Scott took to it easily. Mike ended up rolling onto the board and hauling himself up instead of trying to jump out of the water.
They paddled out further, out to where the waves where higher. Dylan showed them how to catch a wave – to patiently wait until the wave came to him, then to jump up on the surfboard and float along it until the wave itself dissipated. He showed them how to stand, at a small crouch to keep balance, because the idea was to stay balanced on the board. They practiced standing on the board while small waves buffeted them.
Then Dylan had Scott go out to try and catch a wave. He did, but didn’t ride it for long, as his stance wasn’t wide enough. Mike went out, and fell off as soon as the wave hit, not expecting the force of the wave to be that jarring.
Dylan watched the two of them, and then went back to shore when they were getting the hang of catching waves. The waves themselves started getting higher, but the two men were out in the surf, not noticing that they were drifting more and more out to sea.
Scott caught a wonderful wave that blew him right by Mike, heading Scott toward shore. Mike stood and waited for a wave to come, and when it did, it was huge.
Mike had no where to go, as the wave crashed on him, knocking him off the board and forcing him down. He didn’t know what end was up. He swam, the water got colder, and his lungs hurt from the air getting knocked out of him.
Something grabbed his legs, and started pulling him down. He looked down and saw a woman’s long red hair with seaweed entwined in it, and a white determined face. He tried to kick at her, to get her away, but the woman kept pulling him down. Mermaid, he thought, and kept trying to swim up. The woman wrapped her arms around his thighs and he thought for certain he was going to go down.
Then someone grabbed him by his armpits and started pulling him up. He struggled, the last of his air giving out and water rushing into his lungs. His vision started to get blacker and blacker until finally, that gave out as well.
He felt someone’s lips on his, and then the water came rushing up. He turned his head, puked and coughed sea water. Scott was straddled over him. He was back on shore, but the water was still lapping at his waist and back.
Scott reached down and hugged him tight.
The lifeguard came down, kicking up sand, carrying the first aid kit. “You okay?”
Mike nodded. “Yeah.” He still held onto Scott. “Yeah.”
“Need me to call an ambulance?”
“No, I’m okay.” He smiled at Scott. “You saved me.”
Scott smiled.
Maybe he would tell Scott about the mermaid. But for now, in his arms, all he cared about was how Scott saved his life yet again.