by J G Barber
Paul and Clive think the same thought. Is everyone here named Hector?
Clive holds up one of the tequila bottles. “Hector, get the good stuff!” he calls out as Hector runs toward town.
Clive and Paul grab beers and join the circle of six women and four college-age men around the fire. The men are a mix of Mexicans and Americans, all dressed in light hoodies and sweats, looking like a photo in the beachwear section of a college fashion website. Except for Narmaya, the young women are Caucasian Americans. They’re all dressed in mermaid hoodies and scaled tights, similar to Narmaya’s outfit.
“These are my new friends,” Warren announces. “They just bankrolled our party tonight. It’s going to be epic!” The circle exchanges looks of excitement and anticipation, while maintaining an awkward silence with no introductions.
Narmaya steps forward. “Paul!” She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. “I told you we’d meet again. You change your mind? Come to fuck me now, have you?”
Paul removes her arms. “No, Narmaya. We’re just here to party.”
Narmaya checks out Clive. She’s intrigued. “Who’s your friend?”
Clive shakes her hand. “G’day, Narmaya. I’m Clive. Archaeologist by trade.”
“An Australian archaeologist. How interesting,” she declares with a snooty, polished East Coast American accent. “I’m study anthropology.” Her girlfriends roll their eyes. They know where this is going.
Clive reads the girls’ reactions. He moves closer to Narmaya. “Many similarities between our fields. Which study, geographic, racial, or cultural?”
She relaxes into an informal conversation. “Cultural mostly. I have a strong interest in archaeological anthropology. I’m working on a thesis about the significance of mermaid symbols in the traditional life of ancient cultures around the world.”
“Crikey! I’m very interested in that topic myself. Tell me about your thesis.”
Narmaya steps in closer to Clive. “Well, as you know, many girls today are interested in mermaids. Some of us self-identify as mermaids.” She points out the mermaid garb all the young women are wearing. Paul and Clive exchange a look. “There are mermaid clothing lines, songs, books, movies and TV shows. Mermaids enchant some people. Others fear them. My thesis argues that in ancient times, a race of mermaid people actually existed. That is why we see mermaid symbols represented in cultures all over the world. Their existence left an imprint in our ancestry that has expressed itself throughout time and reveals itself today in our modern zeitgeist. Do you believe in mermaids?”
Clive nods. “Oh yes, we’re believers. We’re right there with you.”
Narmaya moves into Clive’s space. “You’ve found archaeological evidence of their existence, haven’t you? What have you found?”
Paul nudges Clive. Be careful, he says with his eyes.
Clive ignores Paul and locks eyes with Narmaya. “I agree with your theory. There’s archaeological evidence on every continent. I’m sure you’ve seen photographs in your research. Would you like to hear my theory?” She nods, so he continues, “The mer-people existed in the time of Atlantis. The Great Flood caused them to scatter around the globe. Their interactions with the aboriginal peoples who survived the flood birthed the artifacts and myths we find in the archaeological record.”
Narmaya looks around the circle at her girlfriends. “See. I told you I’m not crazy!” She hooks her arm under Clive’s. “Tell me more.”
Paul looks at Clive sideways. He heeds Paul’s caution this time. “You know as much as I do, my dear. I’d love to review your thesis paper when it’s ready.”
“Definitely!” She clutches his arm tighter.
Hector arrives to break up any further discussion, a bag of tequila in each arm. Warren grabs a smaller paper bag from the top of one of the larger bags.
“La mota Y Griega y la cocaína en bruto de Peru,” Hector says.
Warren looks around the beach for signs of onlookers. All clear. “Okay, party people. It’s gonna be a good night tonight.” He directs Hector to set the bags of tequila on the sand and help him bring the table over closer to the fire. Warren lays out the smaller bag’s contents: a half-ounce of dense bud, four eight-balls of cocaine, and the implements to consume them. “Roll ’em up!”
Hector rolls a small stack of blunts. Warren rolls up two hundred peso bills and chops a set of lines on the small mirror included in the bag.
Clive pulls Paul aside. “You sure this is a good idea for you, mate? With the baby coming? And after all that cleansing El Anciano put you through?”
Paul the partier is already past the point of no return. “Once Jason is born, I’ll have to be on my best behavior. We have our plan. Tonight, I’m letting loose!”
“All right then, mate. Let’s make this a party!” They join the circle as the college kids pass the mirror, the first blunt, and a bottle of the good tequila around. The circle continues. Warren replenishes the mirror on each pass until they finish the blunt and the bottle.
Warren selects a techno beach party playlist on his smartphone, and his boom box speakers thump. The girls shed their hoodies to reveal an array of mermaid-scaled bikinis and raver halter-tops. The guys strip down to swim trunks. A frenzy of cocaine-fueled dancing begins. Narmaya pulls Clive into the dance, leaving Paul and Warren as the last two standing aside.
Warren chops out a few lines and passes the mirror to Paul. “What’s your deal?”
Paul clears the mirror. “I worked for a tech startup for a few years. We sold it. Now I sail around the world. What about you?”
Warren refills the mirror. “My father owns a bunch of companies and real estate. He buys me whatever I want to make up for his guilt about being a shitty father. I take full advantage of it.”
Paul grabs a blunt and lights it up. “Trust fund?”
Warren chops out a new set of four fat lines. “Yeah.”
Paul trades the blunt for the mirror. “My lawyer buddy back in Seattle was a trust fund baby.” He wonders what became of Scott as he snorts a pair of lines in his honor.
Warren takes his turn on blunt. “You’re from Seattle? I love that place! And not just because it’s a legal state. I went to UW for a while.”
Paul hands the mirror back and takes the blunt. “Me too. Foster School of Business.”
“Same here.” Warren clears the mirror. “I dropped out, though. It’s not like I have to work. When my father dies, I’ll be crazy fucking rich. In the meantime, this place and these people fulfill all my needs.” He motions to the party goods. “I’m a simple man at heart.”
“Same here.” Paul exhales. The THC and coca fire his senses into overdrive. “God, I love the Y Griega!”
Warren lays his arm over Paul’s shoulders. “All these girls turn into sluts when they do the cocaína. Miss India is very particular. Since you won’t fuck her, she’s going to fuck your friend tonight. But all is not lost. Any of the other girls will fuck you.”
“My wife’s not down with me fucking other women. Been down that road a couple times already…” Paul takes another hit.
Warren takes the blunt from him. “No way, you’re fucking married? You seem like a total laid back party dude.”
“I am.” Paul trips on the cloud of smoke escaping his mouth until a reality moment disrupts his focus. “But my son’s going to be born soon. This is my last chance to a party for a while.”
“Hey, congratulations. Let’s make this one a night for you to remember, then.” He chops out another set of lines. They take turns until mirror is empty. Warren lights a fresh blunt and bolts into the middle of the dance. “Come on, girls! Let’s see some titties!” The girls need no further encouragement. They unstrap in a synchronized boob drop and throw their tops into the sand with a shout. Paul joins the dance to enjoy the blunt and the show.
Narmaya pulls Clive away from the dance, over to the drug table. She chops out a set of lines for them, making sure Clive has a full view of her bouncin
g breasts as she does it. When she’s done, she presents the mirror, holding it just below her nipples. They take turns feeding each other lines until the mirror is empty.
“I want to make love with you,” she whispers into his ear as he leans over to set the mirror down.
“Okay.” Clive takes her hand.
She leads him down to the water. Narmaya wraps her arms around his neck. “Let’s do it in the wet sand. Like mer-people.” He strokes her hair. She divests him of his t-shirt and running shorts. He pulls down her bikini bottoms, sweeps her off her feet, and carries her down to the edge of the water to fulfill her wish.
The vocal trance music morphs into a mesmerizing siren song of longing and desire. Paul surrenders to the hallucinatory experience of dancing with the young women, swayed by the movement of their hips, and entranced by their undulating breasts. They transform into Mami, Jiao, Maraja, Sirena and Suvanna. The young men transform into cartel guards in their black and brown uniforms. Warren morphs into El Jefazo as he returns to the drug table, his hand waving in an invitation for more. Paul blinks. He’s dancing in the center of the clay dance floor, surrounded by several hundred gorgeous naked women. They start a train of tongue kisses; grind their chests into him with each kiss. Another pulls down his running shorts and takes him all the way into her mouth. He stumbles away into the sand and vomits.
“My birth name is Narmaya,” she tells Clive as they cuddle together, their bodies entwined and covered in sand. “The one who gives pleasure.”
Clive kisses her. “No doubt about that, Narmaya.”
“My true name is Jalpari, the beautiful Indian mermaid, born as a human. You know more about the mermaids than you are telling me,” she says in a siren song voice. “I want to know everything.”
Clive brushes her hair from her face and looks into her eyes. “The real mermaids are not the characters from your childhood fantasies. They are not actually mermaids.”
“Then they are real!” She slips out of his arms and sits up. He sits facing her. “Tell me the whole truth about my sisters.” Seeing his cognitive dissonance as he tries to process her use of the word sister, she entrances him with a long kiss and longing in her eyes that he cannot resist.
“We know the Sirenians existed before the Great Flood. As far as we know, there is only one Sirenian who survives in her original physical form,” Clive explains. “And we disabled her ability to transform. There are six more who survive in spirit only, by possessing the bodies of beautiful young women like you. This small group is incredibly dangerous. You should avoid them at all costs.”
She kisses him. “What makes them dangerous?”
He grabs her shoulders. “They intend to wipe out all of humanity.”
She pulls away. “The humans hunted us to the brink of extinction. We want revenge.”
Clive leans into her. “Exactly. They are working with the local drug cartel to excavate a pyramid. It contains ancient technology that will enable them to take us all out. We are trying to stop them before they do.”
“Then they are here! I knew it. Their call brought me here. I can feel their call right now.” Narmaya looks over to her girlfriends, still dancing around the bonfire. “We all do. Where is the pyramid?”
Her question snaps Clive out of the siren trance. He stands her up. “You and your friends need to pack your shit at first light and get the fuck out of here.”
She tries to brush the sand off her skin. “Why would I do that? I finally found what I’ve been searching for my whole life.”
Clive takes her hands. “Narmaya. You’re an incredibly beautiful and highly intelligent woman. I would love nothing more than to spend my days lying in the sun with you and my nights making love in the wet sand. But I urge you, please, leave. Today. This morning. The sirens are recruiting young women. Those who don’t make the cut will become cartel property.”
She wraps her hands around his face and kisses him. “You love me! That is so adorable.”
“Trust me. You have no idea how powerful they are. Tell me where you’re going. I’ll come find you when this is over.” She smiles and dives in the water. Clive spirals into a cocaine-induced panic attack as he realizes she may actually be a siren. And he just told her everything.
The humans living in the lake regions of the altiplano in central Mexico know them as La Tlanchana. The highland locals go about their lives unaware that the goddesses they idolize are a gossip of sirens living in the lakes. Stories about La Tlanchana spread after the locals glimpse the sirens as they swim the nearby rivers, to play and hunt for food. The stories continue until the Spaniards arrive.
Today, the gossip gathers at a solitary island, in a deep cove not visible from the lakeshore. Their thoughts merge into a unified conversation.
Sisters, we face a threat. A new type of human. These humans are not friendly to our kind. I fear they intend to harm us.
I see them. They wear strange clothing and carry swords. They harm the locals.
I do not understand. The humans adore us.
The calls from our sister in another land tell of a human kind named Europeans. They travel the world, infecting our human friends with diseases. They wage a war of terror on our kind and the humans in foreign lands.
Why do they do such a thing, sisters?
A madness borne of fear possesses them. They believe evil demons inhabit the world and they are duty-bound to eradicate this evil.
We are the children of Great Mother. Do they not see this?
These humans call their campaign of terror an inquisition. They murder any human or Sirenian they deem to be touched by evil, according to their rules and ways. We must protect ourselves.
We have no warriors among us! How will we defend ourselves?
With our song. We know how weak the human males are. We can call them to us and drown them in the water.
It is not our way!
We have no choice! Soon, they will come for us with boats and spears and fishing nets. They will use their swords to take our heads. I see and feel the horrors they visit on our sisters in other lands. We cannot allow this to happen.
How do we deserve this fate? How have we betrayed Great Mother?
We have not. They are a mutation. An invasive species. These humans do not recognize the evil that dwells within them. Instead, they project the evil outside themselves, onto others who do not believe as they do. Their books delude their thinking and foster the belief that killing others will purge the evil in their own hearts.
Tragedy has befallen us again, sisters. We have no hope.
We must draw our strength from Great Mother and do what is necessary to survive. We are fearless!
Leucosia sits up in bed, tears streaming down her face, her heart aching as the ancestral voices echo in her mind. After her escape with Lorelei from her gossip’s massacre in 16th century Germany, she was the one who sang the calls to warn the gossips around the world. Her warnings did not save any of them.
She heads outdoors to her spot to begin her morning meditation ritual. Leucosia breathes in the ocean air, hoping to restore some sense of peace and purpose after another night of dreams filled with murderous memories. She absorbs the light of the rising sun, moved by its interplay with the ocean. Thank you, Great Mother. Her gratitude brings in a measure of peace.
Her clairaudience fills with a siren song she has not heard for centuries. It’s a soft, peaceful, loving song of sisterhood and hope. Her clairvoyance sees a siren gossip, in their mermaid forms, lounging in the watery shores of a large pond fed by a fresh waterfall, laughing and playing together as they sing their lovely song. The song fills Leucosia’s heart with joy.
As she continues listening, the song evokes a wave of venomous rage that engulfs her consciousness. She jumps up into a warrior pose, eyes like a snake, ready to strike. “I cannot forgive what the humans have done! We must punish them for their crimes!” As she marches back to the facility, even her rage cannot overshadow her strong sense of knowing.
The impossible is true. An original gossip still survives.
Chapter Fifteen
Paul and Clive make their way back to the bunker, in the light for the first time since the cartel attacked Paul’s home. They check at every turn to make sure no one is watching or following them. The drug residue in their systems amplifies their paranoia until they make it back to the crap shack.
Safe inside, Clive pauses at the bunker entry door. “We’ll get some shit for our little adventure. We should get our story straight.”
Paul trips on the slivers of light coming in from gaps in the paper covering the windows. “What story? We partied on the beach all night. It’s not like they don’t know we like to party.”
Clive looks away. “Exactly.”
Paul approaches and tilts his head up to make eye contact. “What are you not telling me, Clive? I know you slept with that girl. Did you tell her about us?”
Clive shakes his head. “No mate, of course not.”
Paul looks at him sideways. “You told her something you shouldn’t have.”
Clive pulls away and peaks out a front window. “Narmaya and her friends are mermaid lovers. I’m afraid for them. I told her to leave.”
Paul pursues and turns Clive toward him. “What else?”
“I might have mentioned the history of the Sirenians. And the siren island. And the pyramid.”
Paul gets in his face. “Why the fuck did you do that?”
“I was high, and we were in love.” Clive steps away in a paranoid circle, checking out each window for any sign of trouble. “Shit! This happens every time I fall for a girl. I always end up doing something stupid.” He slaps himself in the head.
Paul grabs his wrist, gripping it tight enough to cut off circulation. “You sure they don’t know about us or this location?”
“Yeah mate, I’m sure.” Clive’s eyes say he has nothing more to hide. He pries his hand out of Paul’s vice grip.
Paul believes him. His mood shifts to curiosity. He wants to know more about Clive’s encounter with Narmaya. “How was it?”
