Emily Windsnap and the Monster From the Deep

by Liz Kessler

  Letting out a breath it felt as if I’d been holding in for a week, I took his hand and we swam on.

  “It’s that way,” I said as we came to the lagoon. It looked different. The water was murky and muddier than I remembered. Sand-colored flatfish skimmed over the seabed, moving beneath us like shifting ground.

  My throat closed up. We’d reached the carving on the wall. The trident. How on earth could we have missed it last time? Maybe if we’d seen it, none of this would have happened.

  It was pointless thinking like that.

  We came to the pinwheel, except this time when I looked at it, I realized I knew exactly what it was. The long shoots spiraling out from the round body in the center . . .

  “That’s it,” I said, my voice rippling like a breaking wave. “I don’t want to go any farther.”

  He stopped swimming. “We need to do this, little ’un — I mean, Emily.”

  “Dad, you know, it’s okay if you want to call me —”

  “No.” He put a finger over my lips. In charge. Strong. “You’re not a baby. You’re a scale off the old tail, and I couldn’t be more proud of you. And we’re going to get to the bottom of this, find out what we can, right?”

  “But it’s out of bounds. This was how the whole trouble started.”

  “And this is how it’ll end, too,” he said. “You don’t think we found ourselves at this place by the pair of us doing what we were told, do you?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  He reached out for my hand. “Come on. I’ll go ahead, but you need to tell me where I’m going. I’ll look after you.”

  Eventually, I took his hand and we swam in silence.

  Everything looked familiar, until we came to an enormous gash in the rock. Maybe the size of a house.

  “In there.” I held out a shaky arm. “Except it was a tiny hole last time!”

  Dad swallowed. “Okay, then. You ready?”

  “I’ll never be ready to go back in there.” A solitary fish flashed past me: soft green on one side, bright blue on the other, its see-through fins stretched back as it swam away from the cave. Sensible fish.

  “Come on. You’ll be okay. I’m right beside you.” He squeezed my hand and we edged inside, slipping back through the rock.

  But it was completely different. So different that I started to wonder if we were in the wrong place. There were no thin winding channels, just huge gaping chasms all the way. We swam through them all.

  And then we came to the gold. We were in the right place. Jewels and crystals lay scattered across the seabed. As we swam lower, the surroundings felt less familiar. Colder. And there was something else. Something very different. The deeper we got, the more we saw of them.

  Bones.

  Just a few at first, that could perhaps have passed for driftwood. Then more: clumps of them, piled up like the remains of a huge banquet. Long thin bones, twisty fat ones — and then a skull, lying on the sea floor. A dark fish slipped through an eye socket. I clapped a hand across my mouth.

  “Dad!” I gripped his hand so hard I felt his knuckles crack.

  “Don’t look at them,” he said, his voice wobbling. “Just stay close to me.”

  We swam into every bit of the cave. Every inch.

  “What do you see?” Dad asked as we paused in the center of the biggest chasm.

  I looked around. “Nothing.”

  “Exactly.” He turned to face me, suddenly not in charge anymore. Not strong. Just scared. “It’s gone, Emily. The kraken — it’s on the loose.”

  How long have we been here? A couple of days? Who knows? All I know is we’re stranded on a deserted scrap of an island, the boat’s broken, and I’m hungry.

  And scared.

  Nuts! How long can a person live on nuts? And water from an iffy-looking stream. Dad figures he’ll catch us some fish. And he thinks we could fix the boat if we all “shaped up a little.” He’s acting as if he’s on some kind of Boy Scout trip, as if this is all part of the adventure. I know he’s putting it on, though. It’s too manic. I can see the truth in his eyes. He’s just as scared as I am.

  Mom’s hardly spoken. It’s best that way. If we talked more, we might end up talking about what happened. About how we could have died. About the . . .

  Anyway.

  It’s hardly even an island. I can vaguely see something that might be a real island, out at sea. Far too far to swim. Just our luck to get stranded on this tiny speck of land instead. Two hundred paces from one side to the other. I counted yesterday. Or the day before, I don’t remember. Some time when I was collecting twigs so that Dad could build us a so-called shelter. Not that I’m likely to get any sleep. It lends itself to a touch of insomnia, getting stranded on an island the size of a pair of underpants, with nothing to eat, no way of getting home, and no one to talk to except your parents.

  Not even the captain.

  That’s another thing we don’t talk about. I try not to think about that, either. What happened to him? Could he be —

  My hands start to shake uncontrollably. My legs feel as if they’ll give way any second now. Like I said, best not to think about that.

  There’s a splashing noise behind me.

  “Mandy! Where’s your mom?” It’s Dad, coming out of the water with one of the nets from the boat. He’s wearing purple shorts down to his knees and he’s waddling onto shore in his flippers. He’s been off looking for fish. That’s all he’s done since we’ve been here. That and mess around banging and hammering on the boat. It’s washed up on the tiny beach, half-filled with water and littered with shells and stones and broken bottles. Yeah, sure, Dad. It’s going to be so easy to fix.

  The net’s empty, as usual.

  Dad pulls his mask and snorkel off. He’s grinning. What on earth can he find to smile about? Doesn’t he realize we’re stranded and we’re all going to die? Maybe he got knocked on the head when the boat went under.

  He’s shaking himself dry. “Come with me. I’ve got something important to tell you both.”

  I follow him back to the pathetic bundle of twigs that seems to have become our home. Mom’s sitting on the ground leaning against a palm tree. She’s not doing anything, just staring into space. Her hair’s sticking out everywhere, as though she’s had an electric shock. Her face is white, her eyes unfocused. She looks like a madwoman.

  “Maureen, Mandy — our problems are over!” Dad announces.

  I can’t help it; I burst out laughing. I mean, look around you, Dad — wake up and smell the coffee. Oh, sorry, I forgot. THERE ISN’T ANY COFFEE BECAUSE WE’RE MAROONED ON A STRIP OF LAND YOU COULD MISS IF YOU BLINKED, WITH NOTHING BUT NUTS, INSECTS, AND A SMASHED-UP BOAT FOR COMPANY!

  “Just hear me out,” Dad says. “You’re not going to believe me, but I swear, every word is true.” There’s a tic beating against his red cheek. “I swear,” he repeats.

  Mom sighs. “Just tell us. What ridiculous idea have you come up with now?”

  “It’s not an idea, Mo. Well, not exactly. It’s something I’ve seen.”

  Mom raises her head a fraction. “What have you seen, then?”

  Dad puffs out his chest and looks from one of us to the other. “Mermaids.” I watch the lump in his throat bob up and down. “I’ve seen mermaids.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jack!” Mom pulls herself up and shakes out her skirt. “When are you going to act like a proper man and fix this mess, rather than indulging your stupid fantasies?”

  She starts to walk off, wiping sand off the backs of her legs. Dad grabs her arm. “It is not a fantasy, Maureen!” he says furiously. “I swear on every breath I’ve ever taken, there are mermaids! Not here, farther out. I’ve seen them swimming, under the water. They’ve got tails — long, glistening, shiny tails!”

  Their eyes are locked. It’s as if they’re acting out some surreal sketch and the teacher has just said “Okay, freeze, everybody!”

  But there’s something about what he’s said; something j
ust out of reach . . .

  “Don’t you understand what this means?” Dad says. His neck’s bright red and bulging. He’s gripping Mom’s arm.

  Mom stares at him. “No, Jack. I’m afraid I don’t know what it means at all. That you’re cracking up, perhaps? Well — don’t worry, I’m sure I won’t be far behind you.” She pulls out of his grip.

  “Mo, I’m not cracking up!” he shouts. “You’ve got to believe me! We could save our home, the amusement arcade — the whole pier!” He turns to me, his eyes wild and intense. “Mandy, you believe me, don’t you?”

  “I —” Of course I don’t believe him. Of course I don’t! But there’s something. Something. What is it?

  Mom’s shaking her head. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t quite follow your logic.”

  Dad holds up his net. “We capture one! Take it back to Brightport. We can have it on show, charge admission and everything. We’ll take care of it, of course. Give it a good life. People will travel from all over the country to see it! From all over the world, maybe! We’ll be heroes in the town; we’ll pay for the pier to be renovated. Don’t you see? This could solve all our problems!”

  Mom sucks in her cheeks. “Jack,” she says, “you haven’t managed to catch so much as a goldfish since we got here! Even if I were to believe that you have seen a mermaid — which, frankly, I don’t — how in heaven do you propose to catch the thing?”

  Dad pulls at his net. “I haven’t got the whole plan figured out yet, have I? I’ve only just seen them. A group of them. Swimming in the deep water. One of them had gold stars shining in her tail. There was a merman too, with long black hair and a shiny silver tail. A merman! For God’s sake, Maureen!” He grips her arm again. “I’m telling the truth! You’ll see I am.”

  Mom pulls away and turns to me. “Come on, Mandy. Help me get some dinner. I’ve had enough of your father and his daydreams for one afternoon.”

  I follow Mom as we pick our way through undergrowth, scavenging for food like vagrants. As usual, we don’t talk. But this time, it’s because of the thoughts going around in my head, thoughts I’m not sure I dare share with Mom. There’s definitely something familiar about what Dad said. Something niggling away in the back of my mind. I can’t put my finger on it.

  Maybe it’s something I’ve seen on TV. A film about mermaids or something. I’ve got this picture in my mind. Someone swimming. She’s got a tail and she’s spinning around, smiling, grinning — at me! She’s in a pool. It’s not from TV. I’m sure it isn’t. It feels real. It feels like a memory.

  I grab a couple of nuts and shove them hard into my pocket. Mermaids! As if! I force myself to laugh.

  We’d better get away from here before we all crack up.

  “Dad.”

  He didn’t reply. Just kept on staring out to sea. We’d spent half the day swimming around the coast, trying to keep out of sight, and trying to figure out what to do next. We stopped to rest at a large rocky bay on the east side of the island, just a little farther down from our bay.

  I swam over to join him next to a huge boulder at the edge of the bay. “Dad,” I said again.

  “I’m thinking,” he said without turning around. “Just give me a minute.”

  I counted to ten. “What are we going to do?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, Em. I just don’t know.”

  I looked out to sea with him. The water lapped gently into the cove behind us. Daylight was starting to fade.

  I stared out at the horizon. So much ocean, stretching for miles and miles and miles — forever, it seemed. Nothing but water. And the monster. Somewhere. A cold shiver rattled through my body. The water lay still, but how long till it would seethe with the kraken’s rage? The stillness was almost worse — knowing it was out there, waiting.

  Something flickered on the horizon. A brief flash of light. I jerked upright and peered so hard my eyes watered. There it was again.

  “Dad!”

  “Emily, will you leave me alone! I’ve told you, give me five minutes. I need to think.”

  I shook his arm. “Look!” I pointed out to the horizon.

  Dad followed the line of my finger. “Mothering mussels,” he breathed, squinting into the distance. His words came out like a whistle. “What’s that doing there?”

  “What is it?”

  “Look — red, then green.” Dad turned to me. “It’s a ship, Emily.”

  A ship had gotten in! The kraken had already pierced the Triangle’s border.

  “It’s not coming any closer, is it?” I asked with a gulp. What if it was? One way or another, that would spell disaster. Either the kraken would destroy the ship — or the ship would discover us. Either way, it was completely unthinkable.

  “Doesn’t look like it. Doesn’t mean it won’t, though.” Dad pushed off from the rock and started to swim away. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’ll have to say something.”

  “Say something?” My words jammed up my throat. I swallowed hard. “Who to?”

  “I don’t know. Archie, I guess.” Dad took hold of my hand. “Emily, there’s a ship coming toward the island. The others need to know that the kraken’s gotten out.”

  “No! Dad, they’ll want to know everything. They’ll make you tell them it was all my fault.”

  “Em, love, the monster could attack that ship. Or the ship could discover us here. That’ll be the end of us all. You heard what Neptune said. We can’t stay here if the secret gets out. Can’t you just see it? Hordes of tourists swarming the place? They’ll turn us into a zoo or something.” He turned to swim away.

  A zoo. My old fears of discovery resurfaced in a wave of anguish. That was one of the nightmares I used to have in Brightport. What had I done?

  “There must be something we can do,” I said, swimming hard to keep up.

  “This is the only thing.” Dad’s voice was firm.

  He didn’t speak again. The water soon grew warmer as we reached the shallow sand, rippling like tire tracks across the sea floor.

  Dad wouldn’t look at me. “You go along home. Mom’ll be worried.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to see if I can find Archie.”

  I didn’t move.

  “It’ll be all right,” he said with a tight smile. Then he turned and swam toward the end of the bay, taking my last shreds of hope with him.

  Mom threw her arms around me the second I arrived back at Fortuna. “Emily! I’ve been worried sick. Where’ve you been?”

  “With Dad. I felt claustrophobic in the caves and we — we went exploring.” My cheeks burned. I hate lying to Mom.

  “Mary P., you really should listen to me. I told you she was safe,” Millie said, pouring some herbal tea from a pot and settling down on the big sofa.

  “Millie saw a ship,” Mom said.

  “She saw it?” I burst out.

  Mom looked at me quizzically. “When she did Neptune’s reading. She had a vision of a ship. What ship did you think I meant?”

  “Oh. No. Nothing. Yes, that’s what I thought you meant,” I blustered. Great move, Emily. Just give the game away to everyone. “I thought you’d said something about gold.” I tried to keep my voice even.

  “Yes, well, you can’t be expected to get everything right, all the time,” Millie replied, sniffing as she picked up a magazine.

  “So what did Neptune say about the vision?” I asked, holding my breath.

  Millie flipped the pages. “Not everyone appreciates my gift.”

  “He told her he’d throw her off the island if she wasted any more of his time with her hocus-pocus,” said Mom, smiling.

  How could she smile? I could hardly speak. I had to get away from here. “I’m going to my room,” I said. Before they had a chance to argue, I’d gone through to the back of the ship and closed my door behind me. Shaking, I sat down on my bed and looked around. Like all the others, the room had a trapdoor that led to
the floor below, to the sea. I’d hardly used it yet. The one in the living room was open all the time and it was bigger.

  I crept over to the trapdoor next to my bed and opened it. Maybe . . .

  “Emily.” Mom was at my door.

  I jumped away from the trapdoor. “I was just looking at the fish,” I said quickly.

  “Are you all right?” Mom stepped into the room and came over to me. She lifted a strand of hair off my face, stroking it behind my ear. “If there’s anything you want to talk about . . .”

  “There isn’t,” I said, trying to make myself smile. I imagine I looked like a scared rabbit with a twitch. A while ago, I could talk to Mom about anything, and didn’t know how to relate to Dad at all. Funny how things had changed. If funny was the right word. Which it wasn’t.

  “I’m fine, honestly,” I said. “Just a little tired.” I stretched my mouth into a yawn. “Look, see. I think I’ll have a nap.”

  Mom stared at me quizzically for a moment before shrugging. “Well, we’ll be next door if you need anything.” She kissed my forehead and left.

  I waited five minutes. She didn’t come back. OK, this was it. I knew what I was going to do.

  I had to get to the ship, make it change its course or something — just stop it from causing disaster to everyone on board, and probably all of us on the island too. I didn’t have a clue how I was going to do it; I just knew I had to try.

  I eased myself through the hole. Then, dangling over the side, I lowered myself down as gently as I could and let go. I dropped with a splash. Had they heard? I held my breath and waited. Nothing.

  I waited a little longer, to make sure my tail had fully formed. When the tingling and numbness had completely gone, I ducked under, swam through the big open porthole, and headed toward the ship.

  It was almost like the old days: swimming out to sea under a sky gradually filling up with stars. A striped butterfly fish raced along beside me before slipping away into the darkness and disappearing under a rock. Shoals of silver bar jacks hovered nearby, shining like pins in the darkness. Purple fans waved with the current, caressing me as I sailed over them.