The tentacles had multiplied while he was still finishing the thought about the first one. That, in itself, was already rude.
He was in the fastest current, which meant the zone was sliding past him at a speed that made the first tentacle a problem he had already left behind by the time three more rose across the field in front of him.
Each one climbed out from below and did something different the moment it reached race level.
One swept laterally across the middle lanes with a slow motion of something that had discovered a target worth being smashed.
One had not moved in several seconds and simply occupied the transition zone between two water currents, which was its own kind of threat.
One was descending again, which meant it had already acted once and was resetting for whatever it intended next.
The fastest current pushed his truck at the upper part of what the zone's physics would tolerate.
