Seascape

by Stephanie Burke

  The man had blue hair! Well, blue-green, though she couldn’t ever remember seeing him on the plane.

  He looked down at her and she almost struggled to break his hold on her.

  His eyes! The pupils were a glowing, pale amethyst—almost white.It wasn’t natural! Even his eyebrows were blue-green.

  “Who are you?” she asked as she stiffened in his arms. And she was definitely lying in his arms. One arm was wrapped around her waist, while her head rested against his chest as she was towed through the water. “What are you?”

  “I am the male that has saved your life, female.” He smiled, his parted lips revealing razor-sharp teeth.

  Before she could comment on his need for good orthodontics, she felt something flip at her bare feet. Looking down, she saw that she wore the remains of her power suit, but the clothes were in tatters. That wasn’t what held her horrified gaze.

  It was the wide mother-of-pearl flipper waving at her that held her attention. It was a large fin that beautifully reflected the sun. But the fact that it continued up underneath her, to the hips that were attached to the body with the arms that held her against his chest, destroyed the mental fortress Elanna had built.

  “You’re not human!” she screamed as her gaze snapped up to his.

  “Thank the Creator!” he retorted with a laugh.

  “I think I’m gonna be sick,” she replied again as the waves of nausea returned with a vengeance.

  “Just like a human, polluting the sea,” he sighed even as he lifted and tilted her again.

  It wasn’t that Elanna was speechless. She was too busy retching her guts out to comment.

  Chapter Three

  “Human females are quite peculiar,” Storm commented as he watched the woman mumble to herself. She kept stuttering things like, “This is not happening to me! I am a scientist, damn it!” and “I must have lost my mind! I am dead and this is hell!”

  Finally, she was starting to give him a headache! Enough was enough!

  “Female.” He shook her a little, splashing her to grab her attention.

  “Excuse me.” She stopped muttering and clutching her hands to look over at her shoulder and glare at him. “I am having a nervous breakdown! It is my right and I earned it! And I refuse to have a figment of my imagination take the joy out of it! I suggest you finish swimming me to Bedlam. Otherwise, be quiet!”

  Storm blinked large opaque eyes at her. For once, he was at a loss for words. Swimming figment?

  “Ah.”

  “I said hush! Going insane is a single-person project! I don’t need any more help getting there!”

  “But…”

  “Hush!”

  He hushed. What else could he do?

  Wait a minute! He could do a lot! He was a warrior and a healer! He was The Storm!

  “You can’t tell me to hush!” he huffed after contemplating his choices for a moment. “I am The Storm!”

  “And storms break!” she all but growled, never even turning her head to address him properly.

  That did it! There was one thing he could do to garner a little respect from this…this…magic-less creature! He simply let her go!

  She sank beneath the surface without a bubble or a sound, gone like so many unpleasant memories.

  “Gone!” he crowed, as he symbolically dusted his hands of these pesky human affairs.

  Then the guilt hit him. But it was only one human female, and she was even thrown away by her people! He looked down at the smooth water, still arguing ethics with himself. Yeah, she was mouthy and rude, but females could be trained. Right? And her body would pollute his waters.

  He sighed deeply, defeated by morals. Rolling his eyes skyward, he positioned his body and dove, his long mother-of-pearl flipper flinging glittering drops of water into the air, before silently sinking below the surface of the water.

  She was easy to spot.

  She was slowly sinking under that water, not struggling, just slowly floating downwards.

  He was impressed. Most humans would be terrified and fighting to the surface by now! But his discarded female was calmly accepting her fate. That bothered him.

  With a powerful flip of his tail, he shot like a torpedo in her direction, circling in front of her to grab her attention.

  Elanna was calm! She was serene. She was sinking into the ocean to her watery grave! Her figment, that lovely creature decked out in sea colors, had released her to end her suffering. Too bad he had a fish tail! A little pre-death sex would have been a welcome tension-breaker!

  Then she shook her head at her own foolishness. Pre-death sex, indeed! It would probably be lousy and last seconds. That’s the way her luck went! Instead of a barely clothed hunk, she got Flipper Man!

  And speaking of Flipper Man, there he was now!

  Storm smiled at the female, noting her resigned expression before he took a grip on her arms and began to tug her upright.

  She offered no resistance, so it was quite easy to get her to the surface. Though she did shoot him an evil look when he had her settled once more against his chest and began to tug her towards the island he had targeted. By his calculations, it was quite close.

  “You tried to kill me,” Elanna said as she felt herself being tugged again. “You are real and you just dropped me into the ocean like so much dead weight!”

  She had come to the startling conclusion that she was sane and alive when the sun began to sear into her saltwater-affected eyes. If she were insane, she would probably enjoy the stinging sensation, and if she were dead, she wouldn’t feel it enough to care. Therefore, she was alive and this Mercreature was tugging her somewhere.

  “If I wanted you dead,” Storm answered, “I would have never healed you.”

  “But you dropped me!” she insisted. “You just let me go!”

  “You told me to hush!” he snapped feeling guilty about his childish actions. But he had never come across such disrespect! Well, from anyone but the queen. She was a real bitch!

  “I tell you to hush and you try to kill me?” She was still trying to clarify this point.

  “Actually,” he drawled. “I was trying to punish you for your disrespect and to knock you out of your shock! That muttering can get to be annoying.”

  “Oh,” she replied quietly. “I see.”

  Then she balled up her neat little fist and sent it soaring over her shoulder and into his left eye.

  “Great Creator!” Storm cried out as he turned and took that unexpected fist right into his face. His hands tensed and he almost let her go, but he managed to keep his grip on her.

  “If you ever try to teach me a lesson again, Fish Boy, I will gut and fillet your ass!” Her words were given in a calm manner, no temper of anger showing.

  He liked it!

  “Brave words, female,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. In one move, she managed to alleviate any guilt that he was feeling, because retribution had been served. He would wear the bruise with honor, if it did indeed mark.

  “Serious words,” she returned, as she peered over her shoulder to get a good look at him, this time a look not clouded by shock or nausea.

  He was kind of cute, in a weird Little Mermaid kind of way. His hair, wet and clinging to his powerful shoulders, was still the wonderful colors of the sea, and those eyes were an interesting change from what she was used to. Well, seeing that she was used to bloodshot eyes peering out over wire frames, this was a pleasant surprise. His teeth were actually the most fascinating thing about him. They looked even and sharp at the same time. She remembered… What did she remember?

  “Ah, Storm, is it?” she asked.

  “That is correct, female.”

  “How did I wind up here?”

  “You don’t remember?” he asked, his voice doctor-calm.

  “No.”

  “You fell from the sky. I assume this is the way humans now deal with overpopulation in this age. It is a waste, if you ask me.”

  “What?”

 
Before she got to question him further, he called out, “Land ahead.”

  Well, it was land.

  It actually was a small tropical island.

  Swaying palm trees were set a distance back from the white sands of the beach. Tropical flowers exploded in a profusion of color, brilliant reds and yellows lighting up the deep green grass that carpeted the ground. Small tropical birds flew through the blue sky, their trilling songs filling the air with music. It was truly an island paradise.

  “Is this where you live?” she breathed, a touch of awe in her voice.

  “No, this is where you live.”

  “Me?” she squeaked, suddenly frightened for the first time. All thoughts of regaining the rest of her memory were shut down by a stab of fear.

  “You!” he confirmed.

  “Why can’t I stay with you?”

  “Because you lack the necessary equipment.”

  She blinked at him, feeling the water grow warmer and shallower as he moved closer towards the island.

  “Equipment?” she asked, struggling to remain calm.

  “Equipment! Gills, fins, cold blood able to maintain heat in the lower depths. The necessary equipment.”

  “So you will stay with me?” she asked, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

  “No, female. I have work to do and I lack the necessary equipment to stay on dry land.”

  “My name is Elanna, and don’t you grow legs when you dry out or something?” she asked, remembering all of her old folklore she learned as a kid, and from old Disney movie classics.

  “I have never tried,” came the droll reply. “Can you grow gills if you stay in the water long enough?”

  “Got a few hundred years?” she asked, using a bit of humor to hide her terror. He was going to leave her on that island? All alone? Wait! Maybe there were some people there! “Are there any inhabitants?”

  “Just you and the birds!” he replied as he felt his fins brush sand. “And now it’s time for us to part.”

  “Wait!” she called out as he maneuvered her around onto her stomach, helping her float in the water.

  “Can you swim?” he asked as he watched her panicked gaze focused on the island.

  “Yes,” she managed. “I don’t like to… But you…”

  “Well then, this is good-bye, Elanna! Have a nice life!”

  “Wait!” she called, but with the merest motion of his arms, she was propelled towards the island.

  Her sudden lack of a buoy left her floundering for a moment. She regained her balance and struck out in a swimmer’s crawl, keeping her head above the shallow water.

  As soon as her knees touched ground, she turned back to see where Storm had gone, but there was no trace of him, not even a ripple in the water.

  “Storm!” she called out as she climbed shakily to her feet. “Storm! You can’t leave me here! I don’t know how to survive!”

  Silence was her answer.

  She stood there a moment, shoulders drooped in exhaustion and dejection, before she began to rally.

  Well, Fish Boy had saved her life, now it was up to her to maintain it. Besides, she held several PhDs! How hard could survival living be?

  Chapter Four

  “I have two PhDs,” Elanna muttered. “I have two PhDs and three Masters. I have two PhDs, three Masters, and a damn certificate from Betty Crocker. Two PhDs, three Masters, a certificate from Betty Crocker, and a Girl Scout badge for selling the most Girl Scout cookies, and I can’t make the damn thing stand!”

  In frustration, she lashed out at the stick-and-grass structure with a bare foot, a mistake she recognized immediately as needles of pain shot through her toes.

  “Drowning would have been easier!”

  She looked at the pile of palm tree branches that was supposed to be shelter, and almost gave in to the urge to weep. But hopping around on one foot took precedence over a few shed tears.

  Since that afternoon when Fish Boy almost literally threw her to this tiny island, she had explored it as best as she could and found it to be totally void of human life.

  There was a freshwater spring somewhat inland, but it was too cool and filled with biting insects to consider remaining there for the night.

  So she had kicked off the tatters of her stockings, tied what was left of her shirt around her waist, hiked up her sensible skirt and got to work.

  She first attempted to climb the rough bark trunks of the palm trees, but decided she needed a degree in Physical Education to manage it. So she settled for finding a sharp stone near the water’s edge and slashing through the lower hanging branches. She had building materials.

  Next, she tried to strip thin pieces of palm to lash together to make a crude teepee-shaped structure, but for some strange reason, her plans started to fail her, and she learned a few valuable lessons.

  Green palm leaves could cut if you tightened them enough, sand is not a stable foundation, and palms refuse to stand without major support.

  So here she was, hopping around on one foot after her fifth and latest attempt at a stable structure failed. She had finally given in to the temptation to kick the blasted thing straight to hell where it belonged.

  “Kill me!” she finally screamed into the darkening sky. “Kill me now and get it over with!”

  As she uttered those words, a strange picture flashed in the back of her mind. A plane? Had she been on a plane? And there was a little girl. What was she doing with a little girl?

  “Human ingenuity at work,” a sarcastic voice chimed in from behind her, making her lose the images forming in the back of her mind.

  Sighing in defeat, she turned to see no one other than the Fish Boy himself, all blue-green hair and pale eyes, lying in the surf, just observing her.

  “Miss me?” he asked as he took in her bedraggled condition and the pile of palm fronds that lay on the ground around her. “Oh! I see we have been decorating.”

  “What do you want?” she asked, barely civil. This thing left her here and she felt no need to be polite.

  “Just to see if you were making out all right.”“

  He actually felt a bit guilty for abandoning her like he did, but she belonged on land and he belonged in the sea. She had her place and he had his. He just delivered her to her place a little quicker than she wanted, was all.

  “And I brought you some fish.”

  With that, he tossed a few sea bass to the sand near her feet, smiling as if he had done her a great service.

  “You can thank me now,” he said, waiting smugly, anticipating her warm gratitude.

  The first fish caught him in the center of his chest, the second right across his smug lips.

  “Hey!” he protested as he dodged the third and last fish. This female was crazy! No wonder the other humans tossed her out!

  “Thank you?” she snarled, her deep eyes flashing angrily at him. “Thank you for stranding me on this spit of land? For abandoning me here?

  “I didn’t exactly abandon you,” he protested.

  “For leaving me here with no tools and no way to survive?”

  “Humans live off the land!” he stuttered, but her next words cut into him like a blade.

  “For leaving me here all alone?”

  “Well, you were not exactly alone,” he sighed as he fluttered his fin to moisten his iridescent skin as he reclined on his stomach near the shore.

  “Alone as in no one else here!” she clarified, just in case that had two different definitions of the word.

  “I was kind of keeping watch over you,” he sighed as he ran his hands through his hair, frowning as he noticed his hair drying out.

  “Well, I am still here and you can leave,” she retorted. “Don’t you have some fisherwomen to lure to their unsuspecting deaths or something?” All that was missing was a huge rock for him to perch on, and then he could be right out of The Little Mermaid. Now all she needed was a talking crab and an evil octopus to make her day complete.

  “That old story?”
he sighed. “First off, it was the Mermaids who were accused of doing such things. Mermen are supposed to just hover, I guess. And secondly, if I could lure people to death with my song, there would be none of those monstrously huge ships dumping all kinds of poisons into my part of the ocean. Besides, I much prefer wrapping humans up in our hair and carrying them below to secret caves and keeping them as love slaves,” he laughed.

  “Forget about it!” she snorted. “You aren’t equipped and I am not in the mood.”

  For a second, he looked at her stunned, then exploded in laughter.

  “Elanna, I think I am beginning to like you.”

  “Storm,” she said, as she plopped on her bottom in the sand and stared at him. “I’m beginning to wish that you would go to hell.”

  He laughed even harder.

  “I give up!” She ran one hand across her forehead, and for the first time she noticed her hair.

  “Eeeek!” she squeaked as she felt the short tangled mass spring out in stiff corkscrews all over her head. She had had a natural style like this in the past, but that look was achieved with conditioners and careful styling. This wiry mess on top of her head was sand and salt encrusted and probably made her look like a demented scarecrow.

  “I kind of like it,” Storm offered, as he noticed her hands patting and feeling the top of her hair. “It’s so different from the long straight locks I am used to. Can you get my hair to do that?” He was actually serious.

  He had never seen skin quite so dark or eyes that deep shade of brown or hair that did that marvelous whirlpool curl. He wanted to touch it, but he was too far out in the water, drying out, and she was on land, where she belonged. With a flip of his tail, he showered himself with water, cooling off his heated skin and wetting himself thoroughly.

  “My hair does this because I am black,” she sighed. “And until I can get some conditioner here, I’m afraid that I will be able to pick it up off of the ground and hand it to you.” She let her hands drop into her lap in defeat. What was hair when you were going to be eliminated by the elements anyway?

  “Conditioner?” he asked, looking confused. “I have no idea what conditioner is, but some of the women I know use heavy oils in their hair. To make it shine and glisten.”