Surface Tensions

by Jordan, G R

  "Bloody cheek, Tommy. And after you helping her—and your hand!—The knuckles…are they bleeding?"

  "My Tommy. My Tommy. I like it, Hayley. Babe, I love it."

  "Who was that, anyway, daft old bat?"

  "That was no daft old bat. That was Mrs. Macleod, picked me up from a rascal and got me where I am today. Right battleaxe, but she did me a lot of good. Arrogant bugger picking on her."

  "Where was he going anyway, Tommy?"

  "Said something about bodies. But hey, we got your patient to get back to anyhow. We'll have to turn ‘round and go to Kiera's via the back road, there's no going through town with this traffic."

  "If you want to have a look, we can. She'll be okay for twenty more minutes. It's not like she's going anywhere. Anyway a stroll with my Tommy wouldn't go amiss."

  Hayley grabbed his hand and they wandered down the street to the harbour front abandoning the car like everyone else.

  There was an immense crowd around the number three pier, all eyes seemingly concentrated on a small fishing boat, tied to the side with policemen on board. A young sailor was giving a statement, and there was dark, brownish blood on the boat deck. A dull murmuring of the crowd was broken by occasional yells and heated arguments and the general argy-bargy of interested onlookers. Various reporters were milling about interviewing locals and sight-seers alike, grabbing whatever take they could on the tale of the boat.

  "Heck, Tommy, what's all this about? Look at that boat, the blood on it."

  "Looks like a drunken brawl or something on board. You don't think someone's been murdered, do you?"

  "Not from losing that blood Tommy, that's not human blood."

  "Hayley, look over there at those placards. Save the mermaids!"

  "You think there's been more?"

  Tommy pulled Hayley close like he was about to kiss her but whispered in her ear. "Careful. You don't know who's listening in a crowd like this." Hayley nodded as they moved apart. "Anyway Hayley, look there's Seamus on duty, he'll know."

  Keeping a watchful eye at the back of the crowd was the town's traffic warden. With nothing moving in the main street, he was taking a restful moment leaning up against the oldest town pub with its dirty wash walls and dark musty windows.

  "Still here from last night then?" laughed Tommy.

  "Clarkie, you rascal. How's it going? Hope you're not messed up in this business."

  "Just out with my wee woman here. Seamus, you remember Hayley from school." Seamus looked blank. "Two years below us."

  "Sorry, love, but no. My loss mind, my loss. Surely you can do better than this Hayley," joked Seamus. Hayley giggled, and then grabbed Tommy's arm pulling him close.

  "So what's the craic, Seamus?"

  "Haven't you heard? Well, obviously not, otherwise you wouldn't be asking. Tommy, you know all this mermaid talk? Well, it seems it's true."

  Tommy tried to seem surprised. "You're having a laugh."

  "No, no bull today. There's a dead one on that boat. Well, a dead merman to be exact."

  "How did that happen?" asked Hayley feeling a rush of tears. She detested animals dying, especially violently.

  "That boat belongs to old Macreedie. He's up in the hospital on life support. Apparently, he got hit by the merman at some point. Another of his crew was also attacked and has severe concussion, being kept under observation. The young lad blew the brains out of the merman apparently."

  Hayley buried her head into Tommy on hearing the detail.

  "So why were they attacked?" asked Tommy.

  "Well the young lad, I heard from Smith the CID guy when I was grabbing a coffee for him, was keeping pretty stum but they believe Macreedie may have had a mermaid on the line."

  "Bloody hell, Seamus. Have there been a lot seen?"

  "Not that I know of, Tommy but seems like they are out there. Seems Fish-Tales may not be as mad as we thought."

  Hayley raised her eyes at Tommy.

  "Iain, who shot that boobs-out model. Used to get called ‘Fish-tales’ at school."

  "God, what's the commotion behind there?" The couple turned to where Seamus was looking and saw an ambulance forcing its way down the street. "Sorry guys, gotta go."

  "Hell, Tommy, we need to tell Kiera and Donald. This changes things."

  Tommy held her arms gently. "No we don't, not right away. Nothing changes. We get things sorted at the pool and then early hours tomorrow we release her down the shore. She swims off and that's it. Back to nature, taking a chance with all the other fish."

  "But, Tommy," forced Hayley in a whispered hush, "She's not like the other fish. She's ……."

  "Human?"

  Hayley nodded.

  "Hayley, you're a vet. Think about it. They just look a bit like us. You even recognised the blood difference from fifty yards away."

  "But they're like us. Just with tails."

  "No Hayley, no. Just stop. They smell of fish, they certainly don't crap like us, and they don't talk like us."

  "But they look so human."

  "Yes, look. But they're not. As much as that rack on the mermaid perks up my interest, she sure isn't human. Dammit, Hayley, I wouldn't go to bed with one."

  "And this is your salient test of humanness?"

  "Hey, don't dis a man's libido."

  "So, what, it's just a fish?"

  "That's unfair babe. I didn't say they were worth nothing, just they weren't human."

  "Let's just go, Tommy. Can't believe they killed it. They're beautiful."

  Placing an arm around Hayley, Tommy led her back towards the car, his head flicking once at some resounding cheers. A body was being lifted up off the boat and had become visible to the crowd. There was cheering and booing before the gathering began to push and shove. Turning his back and keeping this from Hayley, Tommy missed the start of the biggest brawl the island had seen that year, even surpassing the New Year’s Eve early closing disaster at the Trawlerman's pub.

  17

  Riot

  "Well, I believe the council, or the government, maybe military, someone needs to go after and eliminate these beasts before another poor sailor gets taken out by them. These creatures aren't natural and need stopping."

  The journalist nodded her head sagely as the man spoke into the camera. All along the harbour front the crowds were pushing for a view of the doomed boat and its tell-tale blood stain. Discussion was ripe about just how blood-thirsty the arrivals were and animal rights groups had formed their own picket line near the boat. The island's police force was stretched and had pulled in all reserves in order to cover this latest situation. In a place where the regular weekly excitement amounted to domestic disturbances, drunken brawls or the occasional happy Saturday night flasher, recent events were showing a darker side to the advertised ideal of peace and beauty.

  Preaching on "God's creation" that morning, Reverend Murdo McKinney had felt an uneasy aura around his congregation. Several comments at the door beyond the usual "thank you minister, that was lovely", gave him cause for concern that he had offended a few of the quieter elements of his flock. Some of the elders were definitely offended, but there was nothing new there. On returning home, he had heard the news on the radio and had decided to make for the town to assess what was really happening. Now, in the midst of the throng, he felt uneasy to the core.

  "Reverend McKinney, a word, minister."

  Blast, thought the minister, not now.

  "Minister, are you here to condemn these hellish creatures and send them back to the pits they come from? Minister, there's media people here looking for interviews. You should get hold of one and show them our church is pushing God's word to the front and condemning these hateful things. After your unclear message this morning this will have the people behind you. I can guarantee the kirk session will be supporting you all the way."

  Iain Maciver, thought Murdo, always to the fore telling me what to say, to think. I bet there's at least three others with him.

  Turning, Murdo sa
w he was under-estimating. Seven elders greeted his gaze. Ah, this must be serious. At least three of them are hardly ever seen within the church at all except for the "Show-times". Clowns like these could whip this up into something seriously dangerous and not just for the mermaids.

  "Well, minister, will you be talking to them?"

  "Iain Maciver, understand this. I will seek to understand this situation, and then, only if necessary, shall I comment on it. And if I do, it will not be for the benefit of our church, denomination or island. Instead, it will be only for those it is intended for. As for your backing, I'd feel greater protection standing on the Machair in a force ten. Now if you have nothing of use to say, then kindly give my ears some rest. Have a blessed afternoon and try not to fret on too many more schemes to oust me!"

  Indignation seemed contagious as it spread from Iain MacIver's face to those of the other elders like the sweep of a paintbrush. Fighting for the cutting response, Maciver flapped briefly before delivering only a curt "minister" before turning on his heel to be followed by his party.

  Well, Laura would be delighted, thought Murdo. And God help me find what words are needed in all this.

  His train of concentration was broken by a tap on the shoulder. Ninety-four year old Mr. McCauley, erstwhile elder of Murdo's congregation and the foremost member in standing up to any change in "the way things are done" stared into the eyes of his minister. Disagreeing with Murdo on a weekly basis about style and furniture within the church, McCauley had been a fixture in the community all his life. Murdo felt another bashing was on the way.

  "Reverend McKinney, you do well to put a lid on Maciver. A time for wise and calm heads. Remember "for such a time as this". This may be your time, Esther."

  And with that, he was gone. Not in a flash but with a determined, if staggered, walk into the crowd.

  And there's nothing new under the sun, Lord? thought Murdo. Well, I never saw that one coming.

  Feeling buoyed by this development, Murdo strode towards the boat to see first-hand the tale of woe.

  Finding a small gap, Murdo stood staring at the scene, trying to imagine what had happened. The obvious blood stain sent a shiver down his back. Coupled with the discontent in the crowd, he could feel his body tense. Debates between elements of the crowd seemed to be increasing and cursing and accusations began to fly. Murdo soaked in the whole scene and then quietly closed his eyes, offering silent prayers to his God. Prayers for calm, for healing and for the demons not to take hold of the raw emotions stirred.

  The crowd suddenly squashed tighter together as a police car pulled up, and Murdo saw the local Chief Inspector dodge questions, before heading past the police cordon at the boat and disappearing into the bland tent on the quayside where evidence had been taken. A hunger for the reason for this development struck the onlookers and all kinds of wild theories started to circulate.

  "They know they're killers. They know. But they're going to protect them. We need to cull them from our shores." The speaker was a normally unpopular councillor that Murdo recognised. "And they mean to stand and keep our shores and fishermen from being safe." The councillor was pointing at a teenage girl standing with a group of students holding animal rights banners. Behind her rounded glasses, she wore a face of utter defiance.

  "We don't hunt lions or snakes. We don't own this world, it's for every animal." Being quite small didn't stop the girl from being heard, as her powerful voice cut through the crowd. "You're just scared of what you don't understand."

  Last week, thought Murdo, it was all about indecency, how exposed they were. Now it's about killing.

  "All this time they've been there. They've killed a man before. McClaren was right. Took his bloody Dad to the depths. They need eradicating."

  "How dare you! These are beautiful, intelligent creatures, doing less harm to this planet than you with your supermarkets and your television. Bloody power stations causing famine across the world and freak storms. You're as much a killer as any mermaid!"

  The bickering continued and became a full blown row. Murdo felt helpless to intervene, not blessed with a loud voice himself. Trying time and again to think of the right calming words, his brain came up empty and the verbal temperature about him rose higher. And then he heard the whispers. At first, barely audible below the raging words, it began to grow until both debaters started to find out what the commotion was. Across at the harbour, Murdo watched a policeman call into his microphone handset and several officers were suddenly trying to break through the crowd from the wrong side towards the evidence tent.

  The animal rights girl had started to shout again about the evil done to animals by men when the councillor leapt onto a wall and faced the crowd. Rage was on his face, and his fist was raised in anger.

  "It's killed the Captain. He's dead. The hospital say he's dead. Our fisherman is dead, killed by the mermaids. They're killers. Killers, killers, killers…" The chant grew until the noise was deafening. Murdo was reminded of his early days as a minister when a man in the local community was suspected of being a paedophile and of the rage of the mob around him as he failed to calm people down.

  It's time to act, he thought. Get this young girl out of here and let them chant themselves out. With the anger at the news, there'll be no reasoning at the moment.

  Stepping towards the girl, he was dismayed to see her being lifted by her associates above crowd level.

  "You're the killers. You're the dumb animal destroying the world. You stupid, dense bastard. Bloody retard."

  "Who you calling a retard, you bitch? Get them!"

  Murdo was caught in the surge and saw the girl topple off the shoulders of her supporters, crashing onto her back, her head smacking the pavement below. Her allies scattered, some getting a punch or a kick for their efforts. But the girl received a hard kick from a large man who was swearing at her. Murdo realised he couldn't stop the man and so dived on top of the girl. First a stamp on the back. Then a kick to the ribs. Then a blow just behind his ear. Then just a blur of pain with parts of his body taking turns to yell out the loudest. Then the cries of a policeman. Then just black.

  ***

  It had only been six months as a full constable, and the fear welled up inside Chrissy as she saw the charge. Instinct, or maybe good training, had caused her to jump onto the wall when she saw the girl topple and she managed to bypass the retreating animal rights crowd. Getting to the minister who had dived onto the girl wasn't easy but Chrissy had her night stick drawn and pepper spray ready as she leapt into the fray.

  Striking the knees and with the element of surprise, she cleared a path and stood over the minister. Ideally, she should have shouted a warning and told everyone to stand down but the boots were still flying and fists being swung. Copiously, but with aimed intent, she pepper sprayed those closest before striking down the few who didn't turn away. There was brief retreat of the tide and she estimated she had maybe ten seconds to get the girl, the minister and herself clear. Looking down, she saw he was bleeding from the head and probably unconscious.

  Hell, thought Chrissy, this isn't going to work.

  She looked up into the face of a small man, seeing a wailing banshee. From the corner of her eye, a right hook was appearing, and she tilted back but was caught hard on the shoulder. The blow forced her to her knees. She anticipated the next blow but was caught unaware as it failed to land. Looking up, the man was flat on his back and Sergeant DJ Macleod was racing down with his hands. Rolling the man, he slammed his foot onto the man's back, pinning him to the floor. The immediate crowd drew back, stunned. The rebuke of "anyone else?" failed to get a response.

  ***

  Inside the evidence tent, the forensic expert was leaning over the merman's body when the front door burst open and the mob screamed at him for it. His cries of "it's dead" went unheeded, and he was knocked aside, tumbling out the side entrance barely managing to hold onto the pier edge and stop himself from dropping into the sea. When he regained his composure h
e saw the creature's body being carried above the masses, like a morbid form of rock star, crowd surfing. His police colleagues looked battered and were in disarray, far too few in number to cope with the savage outburst.

  18

  Crisis

  Donald looked into the office of the leisure centre and saw Tommy and Hayley asleep on a blow-up mattress. With an arm hooked around her, his face was buried in the mass of hair at her neck. Everything was quiet except for a low electrical hum.

  They look happy, he thought. Which was something considering the news they had brought back, that other mermaids had been found. The tension amongst the group had heightened, and they knew they needed to move the mermaid that night. It was not a good idea to be found concealing such a creature during this maelstrom of opinion.

  It had been decided that all of the group would be needing some sleep, and Tommy had dug out the old blow-up from the depths of a storage cupboard. After hunting for a pump of some variety, Tommy had returned with a hand-held and proceeded with the inflation. The bed turned out to be larger than he thought, and it completely filled the office such that part of it was under the side wall table. With the aid of some blankets and towels, the accommodations were complete, and Donald suggested the girls take the first nap time. Kiera had refused and told the other couple to catch forty winks as they had been the busier. Sometimes Kiera's thoughtful nature had its downsides.

  She was still at the poolside watching the mermaid, trying to assess if Hayley's drugs were having an effect. Needing some air, Donald had popped outside briefly before returning past the office. Tommy hadn't increased the heating in the building in case it was noted in costs, and Donald felt a little cold. A coffee should help, he thought and made for the machine by the café.

  Dropping some coins in, Donald waited patiently for his brew. The coffee machine was a modern one, and the drink was made from real beans. While this was preferable, it meant a longer waiting time. The café had a long set of windows beside it from where you could view the pool, and his eyes were attracted to the dark-haired girl with her legs dangling in.