by Aaron Galvin
“I hear you, Chidi,” Henry taunted.
I can’t outrun him in the open. Her mind raced in wonder of what to do should the field come to an abrupt end.
The corn. She determined. The corn must be my ally.
She deviated from her current path and made for a diagonal course. Smaller and thinner than Henry, she maneuvered through the same rows that hampered him.
Henry cursed at her sudden move. He followed anyway.
Chidi heard him creating a wholly new path in his wake. Further. Just a bit further. Her strength waned from pushing through the stalks. She glanced behind her.
Where the marathon sapped her strength, Henry seemed to draw from it. He bulldozed through the stalks, each step drawing him closer to her. “I weel ‘ave you, Chi—”
“Ah!” a new voice shouted.
Stalks snapped broken behind her.
Chidi stopped. She saw Henry wrestling with a tan-hooded figure amongst a bed of corn. The pair rolled as one, each clawing and snarling to gain the upper hand. Chidi stepped toward them. Who…
“Run, Chidi!” Racer shouted. “Run!”
Henry positioned his leg to stop them from rolling further. He scrambled atop his foe. Raised his dagger in the air.
No! Chidi ran at Henry and dove for his midsection. A gasp escaped his lips at the strike. She carried his body off Racer and tried to roll away.
Henry moved too quickly, catching her by the ankle.
She blindly kicked at his face.
He grabbed her other ankle, pulled her toward him, climbing her body until he straddled her. “Foolish, girl.”
Chidi swung to punch him.
Henry easily dodged it and used her momentum against her. He rolled Chidi to her stomach. Palmed her face and forced it to the ground, smashed it so far into the dirt Chidi felt suffocated.
“When will you learn?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“Chi…” Racer coughed nearby, his asthma crippling him. “Chidi…ru…run.”
It’s too late. Chidi felt a pinch as Henry pinned her wrists together and pushed them to earth above her head.
His dagger pierced her Silkie suit, grazed her bare skin, and came out the other side. Henry buried the blade to the hilt, chaining Chidi to the ground. He leaned forward, brushed the bits of hair from her forehead.
Chidi squirmed.
Henry patted her cheek. “Shh, mon amour. Leesin’,” he said. “Do you ‘ear ‘im? Hmm? Sucking for air…clinging to life.” Henry bent to her ear, whispered. “Remember what I promised you?”
She felt his weight leave her.
Chidi craned her neck. Not wanting to see, knowing her owner did not go far.
Henry proved her correct, gone only far enough to lord over Racer’s prone body.
The young catcher stirred. “Chi…di…” he coughed.
“She cannot ‘elp you,” Henry said, kneeling. “No one can but me.”
No. Chidi tugged at her daggered confine.
Henry knew his work well. The dagger did not budge.
“Leave him be,” Chidi said. “Please!”
Henry chuckled as Racer struggled to rise. He took hold of Racer’s suit and pulled him to a sitting position. “You see? I alone can ‘elp you.”
“Chidi…” Racer’s voice wavered. He looked in her direction.
Henry slapped him. “No…no…” he tsked. “You look at me, now. What eez eet I ‘ave ‘eard you say so often on our ‘unt?”
“I-I don’t k-know—”
“Oh.” Henry pouted. “Don’t know…or don’t weesh to remember?”
Chidi attempted to lean the opposite direction, to use the momentum to fetch the blade free. Come ooon!
The blade refused to stir.
She saw fear held Racer’s stare on Henry as her owner drew a second blade from his other boot. “No!” she cried. “Please. I’ll go with you!”
“You weel,” said Henry. “In time. But now I weesh to know why zis pup believes Lions are better zan Lepers?”
Racer choked. “I-I don’t believe—”
“No? Zen why say eet so often? Hmm?” Henry let the tip of his blade trace under Racer’s chin, up the opposite cheek, stopped its tip near the corner of the young catcher’s eye. “Tell me now. Which Selkie eez better: Lions or Lepers?”
“Lep-Lepers,” said Racer.
Henry’s cheek quivered. “I don’t believe you. Chidi, do you believe ‘im?”
Chidi tried telling him she did. That she believed there had never been a truer statement.
Her voice would not allow it. Each time she opened her mouth to speak, she only croaked.
Henry took the blade away from Racer’s face. Stood to his full height. “You see?” he asked, stepping behind Racer. “She does not believe you. Zat makes you a liar.”
“Pl-please,” Racer said. “I-I’m not ly—”
“I despise liars.” Henry stroked Racer’s golden hair, almost like he meant to part the strands to either side. “And, you see, I ‘ave promised my Chidi one truth over and over.”
Chidi shook her head. Please, God. No…
“To not act now would be to lie to ‘er,” Henry cooed. He grabbed a handful of Racer’s hair, yanked the boy to his feet, and jerked his head back. “And I never lie to my Chidi.”
With one swift move, Henry brought his blade to Racer’s bare throat and drew it across.
Chidi transfixed her gaze on Racer’s last moments, unable to look away. The widening of his blue eyes, the gurgle of his sliced windpipe, his body’s final seizes even as Henry held him up.
She watched the life of another Selkie who dared run with her fade away and added Racer’s name to the list of those now dead on account of her.
Racer sagged in Henry’s arms, yet her owner held the boy in death’s embrace. Only when the convulsions ceased did Henry loose his victim. He knelt beside the body, rolled the pup to his stomach, and plunged his dagger into the suit neckline.
Chidi retched. She tried to tune out the sounds of Henry stripping away the Selkie suit from its former owner. Why? She turned her head from the filth she spewed. Why must it always end this way?
She heard the heavy clomps of Henry’s footfalls. Felt his presence join her and the dagger binding her plucked free.
“Open your eyes, Chidi,” Henry commanded.
Do it. Her conscience begged. Only more pain awaits if you do not.
Chidi obeyed as Henry looked down on her, Racer’s bloodied Sea Lion suit tucked under his opposite arm. He offered her his hand to help her stand. Chidi noticed it glistened darkly. Knew what stained his hands.
Behind him, Racer lay stripped naked. His eyes Henry left open, however, and Chidi struggled to imagine Racer lay awake, nestled in a bed of cornstalks, wanting nothing more than to admire the night sky.
Remember him as he was. Not like this. She closed her eyes and tried conjuring images of Racer at the Shedd, saving them from Wotjek. How her heart soared when he and Ellie released her from her bonds not a few hours previous. Not like this.
Firm, wet, fingers clinched her jaw. “Look at ‘im,” said Henry.
Chidi’s eyes fluttered open and all her happy memories of Racer faded, replaced by this last sight of an innocent boy who Henry granted a final release from slavery. The same grant he would never give her.
Henry mercifully twisted Chidi’s gaze away from Racer and forced her to look on him instead. “You see, Chidi? I told you I would find you.” Henry stroked her cheek with his other hand. “I weel always find you.”
“Why?” she asked without thinking. She shrunk, half expecting some sort of rebuke from him. A slap, or punch, at her daring to question him.
“Because you are mine,” said Henry tenderly. “You are my Chidi.”
GARRETT
“Hello?” Garrett asked the lingering darkness. The scent of chlorine clouded his nose. He suspected he knew this area well. Reaching around, he felt the cool grooves of painted cinderblocks laid atop one anot
her. He slid his hand up the wall face, unable to find its end. With nothing else to guide him, Garrett walked forward. Each step put gingerly forward as if it might be his last.
An invisible, icy finger grazed down Garrett’s backside as he fumbled in the darkness. Its touch hastened him to keep moving.
There’s nothing there…nothing at all.
The finger would not be dismissed so easily. Its former light touch now pushed him onward.
In minutes, his cinderblock guide changed into a smooth door. He glanced down at the thin tracing of light where its base stopped an inch from the tiled floor.
A cold breeze flowed from beneath it.
Gaaaaarrrrrreeeettttt…the breeze whispered. Or was it the darkness behind him?
Garrett ripped the door open. Heat smacked him in the face. Garrett welcomed it, rather than the cold black he came from. He stepped out the door and recognized where he was.
The pool…I’m at school.
The still water seemed a crystal-clear mirror, dyed hazy green by the underwater lights embedded in the sides of the pool.
A bench creaked in the student bleachers above him.
Garrett jumped back. The locker room door did not budge.
“H-hello?” his voice echoed throughout the empty room.
The darkness gave no reply.
Garrett tried the door again. Who would lock me out? Why?
He heard three padded steps behind him, then a splash.
Garrett whipped around.
The diving board bounced up and down so heavily it had left the rails. THONK! THonk! thonk! It went, until finally settling.
Garrett saw expanding ringlets in the water. Something had disturbed its stillness. He stepped forward, stopping with a few feet to spare before reaching the pool’s edge.
Something swam at the bottom. Its tan half came to a sudden halt. The grey swayed side-to-side.
Garrett stepped closer. His bare toes gripped the edge of the pool lining. He felt a sharp prick in his foot. A trickle of blood dripped into the ledge. He watched as a few drops fell into the pool. His blood stained the water. No. He knelt and tried to scoop his defilement out with cupped hands.
“Wouldn’t do that…” a raspy voice came from the middle of the pool.
Garrett glanced up.
A thick-bodied and bare-chested man bobbed in the water. He leered at Garrett with unflinching, greenish-gold eyes.
“Who are you?” Garrett backed away from the edge.
The man smirked. “Call me…Ishmael.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m the one who came to call,” Ishmael mocked Wilda’s Southern voice. His face grew serious. “I’m here for you…to take you home.”
Ishmael seemed to effortlessly glide toward Garrett, yet he did not use his arms to paddle and remained upright.
Garrett backed away as the stranger neared.
“Why do you flee?” Ishmael opened his palm to Garrett as he reached the pool’s edge. “Don’t you want to come home with me, Garrett?”
“Wh-where’s home?”
“Oh, look at you! You’re shivering.” Ishmael said sympathetically. “You’ll feel warmer if you jump in.”
“No…” Garrett took another step back. “It will be colder in the water.”
“Will it? Come with me,” Ishmael insisted, motioning toward the middle of the pool. “I’ll show you such things as you couldn’t begin to dream about. You can bring anything you want. Take whatever you want.”
“I-I don’t know,” Garrett stammered, backing away until he reached the locker room door. He turned from Ishmael and fumbled with the handle, praying for it to open.
“Bring anyone you want…” Ishmael said quietly.
Garrett heard a giggle. “Sydney?”
Like Ishmael, she seemed to bob effortlessly in the water. Her grey eyes beckoned him closer. “Garrett, come with us,” said Sydney. “Come with me…and we’ll play.”
Garrett took an unconscious step forward. “I want to, but…I-I don’t know…”
“He doesn’t want to come with me,” Sydney pouted to Ishmael. “I told you he didn’t want me.”
Sydney sobbed.
Ishmael wrapped his arm around her. “You shouldn’t deny a lady what she wants, Garrett,” he said coldly. “Don’t you desire her? Don’t you wish to be with her?”
“Y-yes, but—”
“Then come with us.”
“No,” said Garrett. “This isn’t real. It can’t be real. I’m dreaming. You’re a dream.”
“Am I?” Ishmael asked. His lips parted in a cruel smile, revealing pointed teeth. “Let’s ask her…”
Ishmael brushed Sydney’s hair aside and kissed her neck. He worked down to her shoulder, his eyes open and focused on Garrett. Ishmael stopped at Sydney’s shoulder blade. He lifted his lips from her pale skin. Then he bit her.
Sydney’s body went rigid. Her arms flailed as she clawed for Ishmael’s face, screaming.
“No!” Garrett howled. He ran toward the pool, yet halted at the edge.
Ishmael shook his head back and forth, ravaging Sydney’s shoulder. Her blood gushed, streaked the water crimson as she writhed and convulsed beneath his bite.
“Please stop!” Garrett begged. “I’ll come with you! Just don’t hurt her anymore!”
Ishmael released his hold. Sydney splashed into the water face first.
“You will come with me, Garrett Weaver,” said Ishmael. “One way or another.”
“Yes! I’ll come with you! I’ll go with you, only please let her go!”
“No. You had your chance. Now I want both of you…” Ishmael looked past Garrett, up into the stands.
Garrett turned.
Someone sat in the student bleachers; their feet propped on the navy guardrail, their face cloaked in shadow.
“Take him,” Ishmael commanded.
The figure leaned forward into the light. Poked his head through the rails.
“Kellen?” Garrett said. “What are you doing—”
“Take him!” Ishmael snarled.
Kellen stood robotically, his face blank as he walked toward the stairwell, disappearing from view.
Garrett heard a faint slap, slap, slap followed by a swishing noise, like something dragging.
From around the corner, a seal with a black backside and a silvery, dark-spotted underbelly waddled onto the deck. The seal tilted its head quizzically at Garrett as if studying him.
Garrett heard a splash. He spun around.
Ishmael had vanished.
Sydney’s lifeless body remained—floating face down in the middle of the pool. The water had turned unclear and choppy, splashing over the edge. The tip of a triangular fin broke from the water near her face, its sharp edge pronounced high above the surface. The fin circled her.
“Sydney!” Garrett cried out.
Come in, come in. Ishmael’s voice echoed in Garrett’s mind. In where it’s nice and warm.
The fin bumped into Sydney, rolling her onto her back. Her eyes fluttered open. She coughed.
“Sydney!”
“Wha—Garrett…” Sydney moaned. “What happened?”
The fin passed in front of her.
Sydney’s eyes widened. “Garrett! Help me!”
You will come with me, Garrett Weaver. Ishmael promised. One way or another.
The fin nudged Sydney, prompted her to scream again. “Help me!”
Garrett stared into the red water. His body shook. “I-I can’t…”
You can, said Ishmael. Come into the water.
Garrett would not. “Please,” he cried. “I can’t…I can’t…”
Very well. Take him, seadog.
A low growl came from behind Garrett. He spun and saw the snarling, open mouth of the seal before it lunged at him. The animal’s weight easily toppled Garrett into the pool.
Ishmael’s dark laughter invaded his mind.
He lied. Garrett thought as the cold encased him. H
is breath caught in his throat. He felt a nip at his feet as the seal hooked its teeth in Garrett’s pant leg and dragged him downwards.
Down, down, down. Garrett’s mind ticked off the marks numbering the pool depth. Five feet…eight…ten…twelve…twelving!
Garrett took in his surroundings, darkness above and the greenish haze below.
The seal entered his halo of light. It watched him with sad black eyes.
I’m drowning. Garrett closed his eyes.
You’re not. Said a grandfatherly voice.
Garrett opened his eyes. Found himself alone with not even the seal for company. Who said that?
Me.
You sound…
Ancient? The voice chuckled; a goodly sound, comforting and warm. I like your voice too, young one, though in truth you’re still finding it. Do not trouble yourself with Ishmael for now. A liar he may be, but the water is warm…isn’t it?
Garrett felt sudden heat in his toes crawl up his body. He ceased fearing the water. His brain no longer panicked. And the water did feel warmer. What’s happening to me?
Open your eyes, said the voice.
Garrett obeyed.
The stain of red no longer tainted the water. No darkness. No boundaries in this overpowering watery world. No edges for him to cling to. Garrett saw only an endless sea of blue, beckoning him to explore and revel in it.
Is this heaven?
This is your home. The voice said.
Garrett searched in vain for the voice’s source.
Are you ready to come back?
I-I don’t… Garrett slowly ascended toward the surface. Are you the one Wilda spoke of?
I am. The voice said, already fading. Remember the wonder you felt upon meeting her—
The water felt warmer the faster Garrett rose. The light brightened.
Cast away your fear of the scorned ones—
Garrett closed in on the surface. Twelve…ten…eight…
Keep the memories of those you love safe within you.
Six…four…
Follow the one who turns his heart to stone, the voice said, barely above a whisper. Help him to see—
Four…two…one…
And follow your heart home.
Garrett opened his eyes. He lay on a soft mattress, a blanket draped over him, tucked in at the sides to keep him warm. A small window near the foot of the bed revealed night outside. A nightlight, shaped like a dolphin, cast the silhouette of the animal on the far wall.
