by Brandon Witt
Without looking back, I began to crawl toward the clothes. Crawling was significantly easier, but even so, I felt like I’d been shot with a tranquilizer gun. I wobbled on my hands and knees, unable to move in a straight line.
I’d made it within an arm’s length of the clothes when I heard the man cry out like he’d just made a touchdown. If the girl with him was a new partner, I was willing to bet she wouldn’t sleep with him again after his string of self-applauding epithets. I grabbed the only article of clothing that looked like it might belong to a guy. The other material was bright yellow and pink. With the tan fabric in my hand, I half crawled, half rolled back into the water and was well out of sight within seconds.
Back out where it was deep enough that I couldn’t see the ocean floor from where I floated just under the surface, I inspected my prize. Cargo shorts. Perfect. I slid them over my legs, my big toe hindering the process by getting stuck in some internal pocket attached to the waistband. Once they were up, it took a moment for my fingers to readjust to securing buttons. Luck really was on my side, as the shorts still had the red-and-white drawstring attached, which was necessary as the man was apparently quite a bit thicker in the waist.
Feeling a rather pathetic amount of pride, considering all I’d done was steal a pair of shorts, I began swimming back in the direction of the beach town. After several strokes, I became aware of how much harder it was to swim with clothes on and that something was digging into my hip.
Reaching around, I pulled a wallet out of the back pocket. The thing was huge, probably six inches long. No wonder it had gotten in the way. I dropped it in frustration, glad to be rid of the annoyance.
Before I’d taken more than a couple of strokes, I realized what I had just done and darted back, having to dive down to retrieve the black leather case. Time to start thinking like a human again.
Sure enough, when I opened the wallet, a wad of cash was revealed. Glancing through it, I found well over a hundred dollars. Releasing the drawstring once more, I slipped the money into the internal pocket I’d been irritated by earlier, then retightened the drawstring.
I fingered through the front pockets of the wallet—the thing looked like a miniature desk drawer organizer. I took out two of the credit cards and the driver’s license, then noticed another opening near the top of the wallet. I slipped my fingers inside and pulled out the man’s passport. Maybe Moheetla really was watching out for me. I’d hit the jackpot. Before the thought fully formed, I sent the deity a curse. Providing a wallet hardly compensated for what Lelas had to face. I pushed Wrell from my mind as soon he tried to get in. No way I was going there right now.
Tilting the passport toward the light, I was able to read the words. Even seeing print was a strange experience. Something so commonplace now felt utterly alien. The shorts had belonged to a Chris Stewart from Texas. From his picture, though a little on the heavy side, I realized he had more chance of a second hookup from the girl than I’d first thought. He was cute and, luckily, blond. If worse came to worst and I needed to use his credit card, I could be mistaken for the guy. I could explain away the different appearance on a weight loss. Maybe if the clerk was a little buzzed or simply didn’t care, I wouldn’t even have to do that.
Stuffing the credit cards, license, and passport into the pocket they’d come from, I buttoned the flap. The pocket still bulged, but nothing like it had before, and its pressure was reassuring, making me feel like I was off to a good start. Even if I couldn’t stand. I let the wallet and remaining assortment of cards find their way down to the bottom of the ocean, watching as the dark rectangle vanished into the deep.
Once again, I returned to my course toward the town, feeling surprisingly optimistic. Things seemed to be turning around. I hadn’t even made it out of the water, and I already had clothes, money, and identity. True, I couldn’t stand yet, but surely that wouldn’t take long. All in all, not bad.
This time, I wasn’t able to keep Wrell’s handsome face from flooding my mind, Nalu a shadow right behind him. Was I supposed to feel guilty for this particle of good fortune? I knew Wrell would be glad for everything that could help release the mers. Still…
Though I kept getting caught up in the moment now that I was focused on getting to land, each time Wrell came into my mind, the pain seemed double what it had been when I was with Lelas and Therin. I kept finding my thoughts traveling down the road that someone I was in love with had been killed. I suppose labels shouldn’t make his passing better or worse, but they did. In the course of things, I had to admit to myself fully that I really had been falling in love with him. True, he didn’t feel the same and never would have. Nothing could have ever come of it. My feelings for him didn’t make his death more tragic. However, I couldn’t help fantasizing I’d lost more than a friend and fellow tribe member. To make it even better, guilt over such selfish thoughts after what he’d sacrificed for me made the ache over him even worse.
I’d been right. Standing didn’t take long. I was able to pull it off on the next try. Walking, however, was a completely different story. To be more honest, not so much walking, as taking a step.
I was glad I’d come ashore before the beach town, still a little ways into the jungle. After falling so much that my knees began to hurt, I resorted to crawling up the beach yet again. Once I reached the jungle, I used the trees to pull myself into a standing position. Keeping my hands on a tree, I slowly walked around its circumference. Even so, I kept falling, my hands and knees bloody from crashing into the tree roots. My joints screamed in pain with every step.
By the time night fell, I still wasn’t able to walk without assistance, but at least I’d quit falling, as long as I held onto a tree for dear life.
Finally, giving up, I returned to the ocean and swam out to a distant rock outcropping. Removing the shorts, I secured them between the rocks, tying the strings to a piece of driftwood securely wedged in the stones.
Sinking beneath the surface, I descended to where the mass of rocks met the sand, let the water soothe my aching body, and fell asleep.
Twenty-Eight
BRETT WRIGHT
By late evening of the next day, I slipped back into the ocean as weary as if I’d run two marathons since waking that morning—crashed into the ocean would be more appropriate. After tripping over the same tree root six times, ripping a gash over my right shin, pulling out a family of thorns from my palms, and endlessly cursing, I was walking. Congratulations, Daddy Therin, your baby boy can walk. Now on to housetraining.
As ever, the water offered instant solace, and while not healed, I didn’t feel like my limbs were going to break off from my body either. If walking had been such a labor-intensive task, one I hadn’t foreseen, I was worried what else I’d taken for granted was waiting to surprise me. The stretch of jungle I’d practiced in had been several hundred feet from the trail that I assumed led from the town to the small strip of beaches I’d noticed the day before. While I’d been able to see people as they traveled back and forth, and a variety of languages and accents drifted over through the vegetation, enough space was between us that I simply looked like another tourist wandering off the trail. The first time someone noticed me, I ducked to the ground, as adrenaline shot through me, once again forgetting we were the same damned species and the only thing that made me look weird was ducking every time I saw someone. That and the endless falling and grunting. Even that probably wasn’t too strange. I could just be another tourist enjoying his vacation by getting wasted on the beach.
I swam the remaining distance to the town I’d noticed the day before. Allowing myself to travel at an easy, leisurely pace, I took solace in the water while I could. No telling how long it would be before I’d return.
When the darkening sunset pushed most of the people from the water and back onto the beach, I gradually made my way closer to shore. Each stroke caused my anxiety to rise, and I had to keep reminding myself that I was simply another person and that they would have no reaso
n to take any notice of me, unless I allowed my fear to turn me into a combustion device. Then all bets were off.
My legs were sturdy enough, though still slightly sore from the nearly two days of practice, that I was able to walk through the crashing tide and step nearly effortlessly onto the beach.
Sure enough, with no more than a few harmless stares, I stepped back into the human world. Even the looks I received were fleeting, and it only took a moment for me to recognize them for what they were. The only stares I’d gotten in the mer world were due to either wonder at my legs or fear because of my resemblance to humans. These stares were ones of attraction. Though they made me self-conscious enough that I looked down to make sure I was still wearing the cargo shorts, it felt good to have that sort of attention. Even if it hadn’t been attraction, simply not feeling like the solitary freak that I was under the water was nice.
While I had done my best to come up with a game plan for when I got to land, I’d settled on simply taking things as they came. I had no idea where I was or how to find vampires. Every time I’d run into the redheaded fucker had been coincidence or by his design. Even when I’d learned Sonia had been turned, I hadn’t realized it was her I was following. If Zef had made sure the tribe stayed away from the area of land, there had to be enough vampires around that it should be easier to find one than in San Diego. At least now I would know a vampire when I saw one.
The memory of the vampire’s emerald eyes caused me to pause at the edge of the beach, nearly making me turn and run back to the water. Flashes of his assault in the alley caused my breath to catch in my chest. Visions of Sonia’s blood-soaked room. The wounds on little Peter’s neck. Memories, living nightmares, still overtook me at times without warning. I guess it hadn’t even been a full year yet. How long was it supposed to take to get over that stuff? If I was truly immortal, like I feared, I’d have plenty of time to answer that question.
As if in a dissipating haze, the view of the beach town returned into focus, shoving out past demons. I put one foot on the grass that overtook the beach, then the other. Within fifteen more steps, I was at the curb of a small street, cars parked bumper to bumper along the sides.
While not as sparkly and trendy as the beachside shops and neighborhoods in San Diego, this little town was charming. Wherever I was, it definitely wasn’t the United States. With the sound of the surf behind me and the palm trees littering the space, it looked like I’d stepped into a cliché of a beach vacation destination.
People were everywhere, keeping my anxiety at a ridiculous level. They wandered around the businesses, put their beach supplies into cars, hailed taxis, or sat on the ground and benches watching the last rays of sunset. A faint hint of pot wafted over from a group of three guys gathered around a trash can. The sickly sweet odor caused me to gag.
Too many smells to identify, but after so long not using that sense, the odors were both uncomfortable and intoxicating.
Though I didn’t have a mapped-out plan, I’d come here for one reason and one reason only. Find the vampires, find out the fate of the mers, then get back to Therin and the rest of my family.
The smells gave me a new directive. One that was impossible to deny. All the shops were open to the elements, and the scent that carried over everything, even stronger than the salty tang of the sea, captured me so completely everything else was shoved aside. Food.
Hot cooked food.
My stomach followed my nose’s lead and took control. No more anxiety. No worry that I wasn’t wearing a shirt. No thought about the mers, Wrell, or anyone. Food.
I stepped off the curb and was aware enough to pause as a motorcycle zipped by. Then I finished crossing the street. Upon reaching the other side, I turned left and made my way down the block, passing tourist-type gift shops, an ice-cream parlor, and a swimwear store. At the very end was the source of the promised manna.
The restaurant was on the corner, and both outfacing walls were open. Round wooden tables were scattered across the expanse of the restaurant, but along where the walls should have been a long L-shaped bar acted both as a barrier to the sidewalk and as additional seating.
The smell was intoxicating enough that the packed restaurant didn’t faze me. I took the one available spot on the end of the bar. In my rush, I accidentally elbowed the heavy man in a sweat-stained tank top sitting on the adjacent stool. He swiveled toward me, his pissed-off expression going slack as he took in my size. He gave a quick nod and twisted back around.
Within moments, a beautiful woman with warm brown skin and thick, long dreads handed me a menu. Her voice was accented, but I wasn’t able to place it. “Something to drink?”
Strangely, considering I’d been in water for months, nothing had ever sounded better than a huge glass of cold water, sans salt. Even better than food. I meant to say “Yeah, a huge water, please.” Instead, before I could utter more than the first syllable, my throat clenched, a low wheeze escaping the narrowed passage. A fit of coughing was followed by deep intakes of breath, hindered by the man beside me pounding on my back with his palm.
“You okay, man?”
Still sucking air, I glanced at him and gave him a nod. Possibly an attempted smile too, but I wasn’t sure.
Turning, I found the waitress’s expression to be more disgust than concern. “Can I get you a water?”
I nodded.
By the time she returned, I was breathing normally. She set the water on the weathered plank of the bar, and I snatched it up, ready to guzzle it. Before the glass touched my lips, my brain kicked, and I realized taking a drink might result in the same effect as trying to speak, only with water sprayed over everyone within a ten-foot radius.
Setting the water down, I pointed to the cheeseburger on the menu I’d found while she’d been gone.
The woman nodded, not bothering to write the order down. “Cheeseburger. Sure. Anything else?”
Again I caught myself as I opened my mouth to speak, then raised two fingers.
Her eyebrows rose. “You want two cheeseburgers?”
I nodded and handed her the menu.
Without any more commentary, she walked away and stopped at another table close by.
I refocused on the water. I raised the glass to eye level as if inspecting it for traps. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. All I knew was that I was nervous to try to drink it. My gaze refocused on a blurry form that had stilled behind the glass. A man who had been walking down the sidewalk had paused, staring at me. Probably because I was staring at the glass of water like I expected it to attack. I quickly lowered the glass to the bar.
The man continued to stare for a second or so longer. Long enough for me to take in his massive size and his closely shorn dark hair. Before I could really focus on his face, he moved on, the view of the dark shoreline replacing his obstruction. The moon was full and glinted off the tips of soft waves that broke on the beach. It was both a comfort and frustration to know that Therin and Greylin were out there somewhere, so close, yet so far out of reach.
Refocusing on the water glass, I brought its edge to my lips and tipped it gingerly, taking in only a modicum of water before lowering the glass again. I held the water in my mouth, swishing my tongue through the fluid. The coolness was both refreshing and sweet. With a concentrated effort, I moved it toward the back of my throat and had to focus on swallowing to get it to travel downward.
I continued to practice until the glass was empty. Managing to get it all down, save for two portions, one that ended up in my napkins when I choked again and one that went up my nose. Thankfully, my neighbor didn’t find it necessary to try to help anymore.
Walking, talking, and drinking. In all my worries of returning to land and trying to find the vampires, those three never even entered my radar of things to be concerned about. How much worse than I expected was dealing with vampires going to be? Maybe I was getting the worst over with. Right.
Glancing around and not seeing the waitress bringing over my che
eseburgers, I slid off my seat and made my way toward the back of the restaurant. Finding the restroom sign, I slipped into the bathroom. The room was tiny and rather skuzzy-looking. Another man stood in front of the urinal, but the stall was free. I stepped in and locked the door behind me. I waited until I heard the man flush and then exit. No sink sounds implying hand washing.
Without lowering my shorts, I sat down on the seat of the toilet and took a long, slow breath. With closed eyes, I tried to force out some words. This time, to my relief, they actually sounded like English, though not at all like my voice. They were strained, hoarse, and whispered. And, to my surprise, rather painful—making my throat muscles tighten.
Within a couple more minutes, I was able to speak. Still not in my voice, not at any level other than strained undertones, but at least the words were discernable.
Mission accomplished, sort of. I stood up and started to exit the stall, then looked back at the toilet. I didn’t feel the need at the moment, but I knew that was another event in my future that was going to be an unexpected pleasure.
Two cheeseburgers later, and I was starting to actually feel like the human I appeared to be. The first had taken nearly half an hour to get down, the second in about half the time. It didn’t really hurt, it just took so much concentration. I’m sure if I’d paid more attention in science class, this wouldn’t have been a surprise. I’d been eating the entire time I’d been with the mers, of course. It made sense, now that I actually thought about it, that walking and speaking would be issues. I hadn’t done either of them in months. The only thing I could figure was that there must be some effect caused by the differing pressure between underwater and sea level that made swallowing such a different process.
