Arthur recoiled, letting out a strangled gasp. The fluid was thick like used motor oil, but with a coppery sheen and a faintly metallic, briny smell. It clung to his skin in heavy droplets, refusing to run off with the sea spray. He stared at his hands, heart pounding.
He backed away from the thing, stumbling slightly as he fumbled for the motor cord. He yanked it hard. The engine coughed, sputtered, then roared to life. He didn’t look back. Whatever that thing was—he wanted nothing more to do with it.