Pet King

hear something.
It was very far away, very weak, and could easily be overwhelmed by the sound of the waves and the whistling of the storm.
He held his breath and listened carefully.

Beep beep! Ah yes, it was a car horn! Someone was pressing their car horn to guide him towards the shore! He was relieved.
A sense of direction was the most important thing in the desert, be it a desert of sand or one of water.

Even though the sound of the horn was weak, as long as it could still be heard, it proved that he was not too far away from the shore.
He tried not to have pessimistic thoughts.
Thoughts like how the sound of the horn was carried to him by the sandstorm and that it was in fact very far away.

”Okay, let ’s go! ” He adjusted the direction his surfboard was pointing in and aligned it with the direction of the horn.
He used his hands and feet as paddles.

The horn had not stopped blaring.
The good Samaritan must have known that he had encountered danger and was offering him hopes of help.

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He was not expecting the good-hearted person to call the police.
The efficiency of the police force in Egypt was low, and it was much better to help yourself than to wait for them to arrive.

However, after three or five minutes of paddling, his hands and feet were getting tired and the horn was not getting any closer.
It seemed to be farther away from him and became intermittent.

What was happening? Was this the wrong direction? No—if the direction was wrong, he would not have heard the horn.

Salem thought for a moment and felt that he had found the reason—he was like a piece of wood floating on the water, and the storm was blowing him into the sea.
Hand paddling on the surfboard was not efficient, and the power of each of his strokes could not overcome the strength of the storm.

What if he jumped into the water and swim to the shore? With only his head bobbling on the surface of the sea, would he be shielded from the effects of the storm blowing him farther from the shore?

He didn ’t think too much, but he didn ’t have much time to think anyway.
Once the storm was over, there might be high tide, and that would further accelerate his drift outwards.
If that happened, he would be trapped on his surfboard.
Then he could only wait helplessly for a great period of time to be rescued.

Even if rescue was coming soon, he did not want to wait and alarm the police.
He would probably end up on the news and made a laughingstock, and he might even lose working opportunities.
Then his father would bring him back to the village, and he would be stuck there for life, just like his ancestors.
He would have nothing to face but the yellow sand and sky.
He would probably have a few wives and a ton of babies, and he ’d grow increasingly dim-witted and would never be able to set foot in the big city ever again.

With that thought, Salem, without much hesitation, undid the rope that tied him to the surfboard, took a deep breath, and jumped into the sea.
He could swim, but when he surfaced, he felt something was wrong.
The surface of the sea was still so calm, but under the surface, the currents were moving rapidly.

The undercurrent that carried a lot of sand was like an invisible hand.
It pulled on his calf and dragged him in the direction of the open sea.
It was extremely powerful and stronger than the storm.
It was not a power that ordinary men could resist.

He suddenly understood that it was this invisible undercurrent that had quietly taken him and the surfboard out from the coast.
It was like…the sand dunes flowing in the desert, or perhaps something more terrible than that.

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Salem was aware of the approaching danger and used all his strength to desperately paddle away.
Yet the more anxious he got, the more disoriented his paddling got.
It got harder for him to gasp for air.

His heart was beating so fast it felt like it was about to explode.
His chest felt like it was on fire and like his internal organs were burning to ashes.
Because he was so anxious and he ’d overexerted himself, his leg muscles started shaking uncontrollably.

The horn sound had slowly been reduced to almost nothing, and he might not even be hearing it anymore.
Whatever sound that he thought he was hearing might simply be an illusion at this moment in time.

Salem regretted his decision to dive into the water and turned back to find his surfboard.
He would settle for wherever the surfboard brought him.
It didn ’t matter if he drifted to the other side of the Mediterranean.
Even if the police were called in, even if he had to return to his village, even if he could never ever leave the desert in the future, those things mattered no more.
As long as he could continue to live.

As long as he was alive, there was hope.
However, the surfboard had all but disappeared.

As he stopped paddling while finding his surfboard, his legs sank deeper into the sea.
The force dragging him downward got stronger, despite his best efforts to stay afloat.

Cough! A wave of water slammed down hard on his face and he drank his first sip of water, followed by a second… 

Driven by the desire for survival, his hands and feet tried hard to keep his head above water.
Yet his efforts proved to be useless.
The turbulent waves were simply too forceful.
As though by a pair of strong invisible hands, he was pulled into the bottom of the sea.
The air quickly escaped from his lungs and emerged in the water as a string of bubbles.

He eyes narrowed in desperation as the light on the surface of the water gradually weakened and his body sank into the boundless darkness.

Just as he was about to completely lose consciousness, a black shadow passed over his head.

What…was that thing?

Within seconds, his hand was caught by an unknown hand, and with that, Salem lost consciousness.