Meanwhile, she’d separated one bag out, and before I could understand what she meant to do with it, she’d seized a fish again with her free hand and dropped it into the bag. “Starved. Choked. Smothered . . .” she chanted, while the fish thrashed inside the bag. She tied the handles and strung it over her wrist.
“What—?”
She grabbed the smallest duckling around the neck and started to put it inside another bag.
“Don’t!” I shouted now, lunging through the chest-high water to cup the fuzzy little body in my hands instead. “You’ll suffocate him,” I scolded—stupidly, for someone who was about to drown. But I released the duckling again to the water. The tiny webbed feet paddled frantically to get away, as if it understood the danger.
I dove for the bag hanging from the woman’s wrist and managed to tear open a hole large enough for the poor fish to slip through. It flopped back to the water with a swell of its gills that I imagined must have been relief.
In turn, the woman caught my wrist in her clammy hand. It didn’t matter, I was already soaked through and the phone in my pocket I’m sure was ruined, and I’d already been exposed to whatever bacteria must be swimming in this soup with us. She gave me a hard stare, difficult while her eyes were still open sockets filling our glass tank, and I stared back, like they were deep, deep pools that I very much wanted to get to the bottom of.
And Hector says I never show any curiosity.
For a moment I could imagine this place, years and years ago. Before the city, before plantations, maybe even before people, there’d been a wetland stretching to the horizon, with sharp, tall grasses I didn’t know the name of, and trees in clusters on the high ground. Frogs singing. Dragonfly wings buzzing. And birds everywhere, in the air and wading in the water and perching on branches. A mama duck settling on her nest in the middle of the tall, tall grass.
“You care?” the woman gurgled at me, wondering. Her hand felt squishier now—less firm.
I didn’t get a chance to answer, but I would have said yes.
Metal screeched and creaked above our heads, a worse whine than the woman’s moaning. Half of the elevator’s ceiling swung back, revealing human faces staring down at us.
The elevator had an emergency door in the ceiling. I should have thought of that.
“What the hell?” asked one man, a headlamp beaming above his broad, sweaty face. He looked tired. “Where’d all this water come from?”
“Is that a duck?” asked another.
“Miss, can you put your foot through this loop? We’ll pull you up.” They were lowering a cord.
“Jeezus, there’s more! Should I call animal control?”
Instead of responding, I clutched the weeping woman. She felt less solid by the second, like paper dissolving in the rain. And all I knew was, the second I was out of this flood—and even worse, the second I was home in dry pajamas and with a cup of hot tea—I would stop feeling curious. I’d stop caring why she kept crying. Tomorrow I’d probably even complain about a train delay.
“What about her?” I called to my rescuer. The crying woman was melting all away, leaving nothing but old clothes and plastic bags stuffed into plastic bags.
“Who?” asked the men above me.
I couldn’t begin to explain. As the woman became water, I closed my eyes. I shut my mouth and leaned my head back, letting her saturate my hair. The minnows swam through it like reeds. For once I didn’t mind.
“Come on, miss! Let’s go!”
I heard them, recognized the weariness in their voices, but I couldn’t feel it. My limbs were numb.
“This place wants to be a swamp,” I moaned, before I dipped below the surface.
“This place wants to be a swamp,” I told Hector, when he picked me up from the back of the ambulance. I couldn’t see a thing, but I could feel the tears gushing down my face.
C.S. Malerich lives and works near the District of Columbia. Her speculative fiction has appeared previously in Ares Magazine, The Again, and the anthologies Among Animals and Among Animals 2 from Ashland Creek Press. Her short story “Phoenix Cross” was nominated for a 2017 Pushcart Prize. She is also a founding member of the collective DC Stampede, supporting grassroots organizing on behalf of animals, people, and the planet.
Bride of the Deep
by
Karissamae Masters
Marissa Stevens stood in shock on the edge of the shore as she surveyed the devastation around her. The tsunami had struck her island home with little warning. Like many of her neighbors, she had clambered onto her rooftop as the waters rushed upon her. For countless hours she had held onto the laboratory’s chimney, watching as wave upon wave rushed through the streets and homes of her friends and neighbors. Panic had put her body in shock. With no food or water throughout the night, she simply watched and waited as the sea erased everything she cared about.
The tide had receded hours ago, but the townsfolk remained weeping and praying on their rooftops, afraid of the tsunami’s return. Ever the scientist, Marissa had overcome her shock from the disaster and scrambled to the beach to assess the damage and plan the recovery efforts.
Standing on the remains of a dune and staring out at the treacherous horizon, Marissa surveyed miles of land and sea littered with mingled fish and flesh. She walked without destination yet with purpose; each step drew her nearer to understanding the extent of the damage.
She came upon the body of one of her neighbors. Kneeling beside him, Marissa recognized him as a local fisherman. He had always smiled at her whenever they met in line for coffee. She struggled to recall his name, but failed. Instead, she recalled the grandfatherly affection in his voice as he innocently asked her one time when she would settle down with a nice boy and trade in her white lab coat for a veil. She remembered giving him a sad smile along with her polite response: that her quest for a bride, not a groom, was on hold during the current crisis.
She placed a hand on the shrunken frame of the drowned fisherman, closing the jaundiced eyes that looked up lifelessly at the turquoise sky. She cursed in regret, knowing that the man was dead long before the tsunami had struck. As the town’s ecologist, it was Marissa’s job to maintain the purity of the water supply—an impossible task since the river of sludge from the nearby factory had broken through its retaining wall and poisoned the island’s freshwater months ago. The townsfolk were dying, and everything Marissa was trying to do to counteract the contamination had been futile. She had devised a system of cisterns for collecting rainwater and dew, but now that too was destroyed. She realized that, just like the bucket nestled neatly in the dead man’s hands, what little drinkable water remaining in the cisterns on the island was contaminated by seawater as well.
“I’m so sorry,” Marissa murmured, hoping his fate was not an omen for the rest of the town. She placed her hat over his face in a sign of respect, despite the pain of her sunburned neck and shoulders. Her pixie-short brown hair gave no protection from the sun, but she felt the sacrifice of her hat was the least she could do for the dead man that lay at her feet. She turned away in shame and regret. Her eyes began to mist, but now was not the time for tears. His loss would be mourned later, after the living could be assured that they would overcome the ravages of this new disaster.
As she walked closer to the water’s edge, she saw the remains of strange fish and creatures unused to daylight’s touch. These were deep-sea fishes, many species unknown to her. Marissa picked up a lifeless body, admiring the novelty of the creature despite the death and destruction around her. As she looked at the strange fish, she cursed again, knowing that, like it, the townsfolk would die without water.
Suddenly, the animal thrashed in her hand in one last desperate push for survival. Marissa gently deposited the creature in the waves, hoping the animal had the strength it needed to return to its underwater home and heal. She gave a quick prayer of thanksgiving that one life had been saved when so many other souls around her had not.
With it
came a new prayer. Marissa began to sing an old ballad in honor of the dead, recalling the shanties of her superstitious fishermen neighbors. Her song became a melody of the prayers they would sing, asking for full nets, calm seas, and safe passage home. She sang until her throat felt raw, and then fell silent once more.
She pulled off her dirty clothes, stripping to her underwear. Leaving her sweat-soaked T-shirt and denim overalls just out of the ocean’s reach in the cleanest spot of sand that she could find, she hurried out several paces into the water and knelt down as a wave crested around her. Squatting in the knee-high water, she used the gently lapping waves to bathe her tired limbs and form; she knew that this was likely the only opportunity she would have to feel clean in the grueling recovery efforts ahead. She stumbled back to her clothes and put them on. Wetness quickly soaked through her clothes at chest and crotch, revealing a rough outline of her damp underwear. She awkwardly adjusted her squishy panties, but could do little but accept the discomfort.
Morning had broken, and the tide was returning to its normal swell. Scanning the horizon for additional signs of life, Marissa spotted a swimmer heading to shore. At first she gave a shout, waving her arms in a futile act meant to encourage the swimmer to safety. But as the stranger approached, Marissa watched in wonder as each graceful thrust of a fish tail propelled the woman onwards.
“A mermaid!” she whispered in awe as she watched the creature. Its tail and scales receded, and two pale legs emerged to boldly stride ashore.
A diaphanous skirt made of a jellyfish bell and tentacles rhythmically slapped at the backs of her legs with each step. A sea star hung casually across the woman’s hips, two arms clasping each side, with its fifth arm stringing between her legs as a protective thong. A diadem was draped across the luminescent antennae on the mermaid’s green-haired brow.
“Greetings,” Marissa offered with a bow, stunned by the woman’s beauty. She quickly shook off the overwhelming urge to embrace the enchanted creature. Her own exhaustion and dehydration were making her giddy. Beware the siren’s song, she thought, recalling the superstitions of her nautical neighbors.
The mermaid received the gesture with a nod, a frown of disdain clearly etched upon her brow.
“Have you come to investigate the devastation, too?” Marissa inquired.
“I have come,” the mermaid began in an imperious voice, and after a long pause continued, “to see what has survived the wave.”
They stood together in silence for a long while, gauging each other and the situation. Finally, lost to the overwhelming weight of it all, Marissa muttered, “Gods! This world is a mess.”
The mermaid’s gray eyes flared, startled. “I know, little human, but the balance toppled years ago.”
“So much destruction,” Marissa mourned, “so much waste of life and innocence.”
“So much pollution,” the mermaid replied angrily, kicking debris from beneath her feet. “Orange rivers of poison flowing through my seas!”
Marissa flinched, unable to repress her feelings of incompetence. “Are your people safe?” she inquired, concerned.
“Thank you for asking,” the woman replied, clearly not expecting empathy from the human at her side. “But what good is there in asking? What can you do?”
“Nothing,” Marissa admitted, looking down at her hands in regret. “I have tried, but . . .”
“How have you tried? What can you do?”
“I am an ecologist. I have been trying to find a chemical to undo the pollution from the spill, but everything I have tried has failed. My people were dying even before the tsunami hit.”
The mermaid gave a wry grin of satisfaction. “You can move,” she suggested. “Far from this place.”
“Move? We can’t move. This is our home. Can you move away from this place?”
“I suppose not, little human.” The mermaid cast her gaze out to the sea for a moment.
“My name is Marissa,” the scientist offered, surprised that she had not yet introduced herself.
“I am Tethys.”
Marissa’s eyes widened in alarm, and she bowed in deference. “That is an old name of power. We worship Tethys as the goddess of the depths in the temples of our ancestors. Are you . . .?”
“I have not been worshipped in a long time.” The mermaid smiled at the memory. “But no, I am no goddess. I am merely a visitor—albeit an immortal one—on your shore, little human.”
“I am sorry that you visit to see only the bad. There is good in this town—good people. There are good people here who don’t deserve such suffering.”
Tethys shrugged. “I am concerned only with the poison that is in our waters.”
“Me, too. But I am concerned with the water because of the people. Now the sea is in our wells.” Marissa sighed. “First the sludge, now the tsunami. We cannot drink what little we had left.”
“Poisoned by your own hands! Fitting punishment,” Tethys scoffed, the antennae upon her brow twinkling in satisfaction.
Stung by her words, Marissa shot back, “You know, they say that when the gods punished mortals with the Flood, they punished themselves as well. Neptune’s seals swam in the trees, salt washed over Demeter’s fields. Even Hades’ dead could not find their way home. Perhaps the answer isn’t punishment, but life.”
“Life?”
“Life!” Marissa exclaimed, inspired by her own words. “Life could save our waters! Living beings from the seas in our waters, used to filter out the pollution by consuming it and transforming it to neutral byproducts! Diatoms! Algae! Plankton! The smallest change can make the biggest impact!”
Tethys arched an eyebrow, swept up by Marissa’s passionate outburst. “The salt sea will not heal the water, but the bacteria that live in the depths could,” she agreed. She collected a drop of the glowing substance upon her antennae and offered it to Marissa. Marissa wiped a drop onto her fingertip, marveling at the liquid.
A tear of relief descended from Marissa’s cheek. Tethys collected it on her finger and brought it to her lips. She smiled as she savored its salty taste.
“Thank you,” Marissa breathed.
“Do not thank me,” Tethys laughed. “I brought the tsunami to wipe this island clean, not to heal your people.”
Marissa’s eyes widened and then she calmed herself. “I guess the outcome is the same,” she replied. “The best punishment for us is life.”
“Indeed.” Tethys smiled, appearing amused. The tentacles of her jellyfish skirt brushed against Marissa’s leg, teasing her through her clothes. Her antennae glimmered in the daylight, undulating alluringly.
“Tethys,” Marissa said in wonder, “The antennae at your temples—do they glow from the bacterium that can heal our water?”
“Indeed.”
“Is it healthy? Does it harm you? Why do you paint yourself in it?” Marissa inquired, daring to touch the moving tendrils of flesh that sprang like antlers from Tethys’ brow.
“It is natural. In the depths, we use our light to attract a mate and to mesmerize our prey.”
“Does it work?” Marissa asked in wonder.
“Unfortunately, not on you.”
Marissa thought she saw hunger in the mermaid’s eyes. Her breath caught and she felt her cheeks blush. “Oh? I am prey to you?”
“Little human, you could be so if you choose.”
With a mischievous smile, Marissa reached up to pull Tethys into a kiss. She smelled and tasted of fresh ocean air, salt, and some kind of sweet fruit.
Tethys chuckled and seemed pleased by her boldness. Her delicate hands, surprisingly warm, cupped Marissa’s face.
Tethys lowered herself onto the sand, drawing Marissa into an embrace. Together they sat in silence as the sound of the waves crashing further down the beach drowned out the sounds of suffering around them.
This simple act of comfort was like a soothing balm to Marissa’ soul. Suddenly the death and suffering around them faded away. Although she knew that sorrow would always exi
st, for this brief moment in time the joy and tenderness between them drowned out the pain of the world.
“Wow,” Marissa said after, resting her head on Tethys’ breast. She closed her eyes and savored the feel of Tethys’ fingers running through her short brown hair.
“You have seal fur for hair, it is so short,” she laughed as she stroked Marissa’s head.
“Yours is the color of seaweed,” Marissa mused, rising to capture the mermaid’s mouth with a kiss.
Tethys chuckled, fingering the strap of Marissa’s denim overalls. “You wear the strangest clothes. The last time I was among mortals, only the menfolk wore such attire.” She gave a sneer as she said the term.
“Three generations have passed since women joined the workforce wearing pants,” Marissa explained as she continued to fumble with a button, “It is comfortable and safe to wear when I work in the lab. Your attire,” she faltered as she watched the jellyfish skirt sway in the sand beside her, “has a mind of its own. Is it uncomfortable to have it hold onto you in such a way?”
“It is not uncomfortable,” Tethys said with laughter in her eyes. “It is part of me.”
“Are you a mermaid or a selkie?” Marissa couldn’t help but giggle a moment later, when she was tickled by the tentacles that wove patterns around her calves at Tethys’ command.
“I am neither,” the mermaid smiled knowingly as she felt Marissa’s legs jump and twitch from her teasing.
“So you are a goddess, then?”
“When I have to be,” Tethys said seductively, and captured Marissa’s lips with her own.
When both women lay panting on the shore in utter satisfaction, Marissa smiled and said, “Thank you, my goddess.”
“Thank you, my little human.” Tethys placed a finger on Marissa’s glowing lips. “Now you glow with emotion, too, dear one.”
Intrigued, Marissa wiped her lips with her hand to see the change. “My lips are glowing,” she announced, confused.
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