Water (15 page)

He finally pulled himself out of the cave and helped me over a jagged piece of rock.

We emerged into brilliant sunlight. The sky, a perfect blue dome above us, was contrasted by a thick woolly carpet of mist that evened out the landscape below. Only the ragged broken-tooth tops of the mountains could be seen as they waited agelessly for the sun and rain to erode them away.

I turned from the spectacular view to find him sitting on a slab of rock that protruded out into the mist, dangling his legs over the edge, leaning back on his elbows, eyes closed with a smile of sheer contentment on his face.

Gingerly picking my way across the roughly grooved rock, from which sparse, determined grass grew, I carefully clambered onto the boulder he was sitting on. Edging my way forwards I sat cross-legged, watching as the mist rolled and twisted below us, changing shape as the morning’s heat intensified.

It was so perfectly quiet and peaceful up there, I almost didn’t want to ask him, but the calm of the outside contrasted with the roiling confusion of my brain, and so I shattered the illusion of peace.

“Merrick, I need some answers.”

He nodded ever so slightly, his eyes still closed, face upturned to the morning sunlight. It was difficult to decide which question to ask first and even unvoiced in my head the question I most wanted answered seemed crude, so I started with a different one.

“How is it that I’ve never heard of Oceanids before?” I asked.

“Oh you have,” he replied simply.

I shook my head. “Only legends though.”

“Most legends have at least an element of truth to them.”

“But if the legends of mermaids are true, then your kind has been around for…” I tried to remember my art history dates on a piece we’d studied, which depicted a sinking ship in a storm surrounded by gleeful mermaids. “A long time?” I finished, unable to dredge up the facts I wanted from my confused brain.

He nodded. “As long as humans have been on land we have been in the water,” he replied.

“That’s impossible,”

He smiled. “Why?”

The certainty of a myth-free world felt suddenly, horribly fragile as I scrambled to find a logical argument to discount him with.

“Well, with modern technology we’d have found evidence of your species before or… or seen you.”

“There are plenty of sightings of our kind, Alexandra, but humans only believe what they have been taught to believe. Anything that doesn’t quite fit into their version of reality is discarded as imaginations or unscientific. Science has been very useful in assisting us in living our lives uninterrupted by prying humans. Humans believe that you know all there is to know about everything, human anatomy, the earth we share, the weather, and the creatures that surround you, because science has an explanation for it all.”

His tone turned sarcastic. “The mystery and wonder of the life that blankets this planet is completely lost on them, because once they have what they believe to be a scientific answer to something, they close the book on any further learning on the subject.”

He shook his head, his tone derisive. “What is most interesting is how easily led humankind is. Take the notion that the sun revolved around the earth. That particular theory was upheld to the point of murder for a very long time because the ‘scientists’ of the day believed it to be true.”

I thought for a minute about what he was saying. It was true that most people refused to believe in anything other than the ordinary. Alien sightings were scoffed at. Mermaid sightings would be ridiculed even more. I wondered what would be said about me if I ever told anyone of the incredible things I’d seen over the last three days.

I’d seen things that were impossible to explain, and they were completely tangible. There had been more truth and honesty in the interactions I’d had with these people – or more accurately Oceanids – than in many of the interactions I’d had in my whole life.

“OK,” I conceded, again struggling to phrase the question without sounding insensitive. “How does it work?”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” he chided.

“Well, you don’t have a … a tail,” I finished blushing, wondering why talking about him having a tail embarrassed me so much.

“No I don’t,” he replied, grinning.

“And you don’t have gills, and you walk around quite happily on land,” I continued.

He chuckled.

“Er… so how does that work?” I asked, “you know, the breathing underwater and the, uh, the swimming?”

“Well, the breathing underwater works similar to many other creatures who breath underwater,” he replied. “Our lungs are able to extract oxygen from the water. What is slightly different to every other creature though, is that we develop the ability to switch quite easily between breathing on land and water as we mature.”

“So you have gills?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, we breathe through our skin underwater, and through our noses, as you do, on land. That is why the poisoning of the water and the sores you saw on the sick Oceanids is so terribly detrimental. That is why thousands are dying.

He shook his head slightly before glancing at me and grinning at my obviously serious expression.

“The swimming is, well… the most obvious change we undergo,” he continued.

I looked at his seemingly normal tanned legs, where they dangled over the cliff face. He’d pulled the long flowing trousers up, exposing his skin to the warmth of the morning sun. He was, as usual, not wearing a shirt, something I was still struggling to get used to, but which didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He casually brushed his hand over the skin on his legs, the gesture making a strange rasping noise.

“Our skin has tiny… edges in it,” he explained, “similar to shark’s skin. When we put our legs together and swim in a wave motion, our skin sort of temporarily knits together creating a greater surface area with which to kick, much like a dolphin’s tail.”

I could feel my jaw dropping open a little as he talked but was unable to do much about it.

“It’s easier to explain if I show you,” he said, smiling broadly at me.

He shifted over a little towards me and then took my hand and ran it lightly along the inside of his leg from his knee to his foot.

I blushed at the intimacy of the gesture but couldn’t help being fascinated by the strange texture of his skin. I’d anticipated a scale-like feeling, but his skin was smooth when my hand moved from his knee to his ankle and rough when it moved in the opposite direction. It felt like – my mind struggled to identify the texture – like hundreds of tiny burs.

Merrick shuddered delicately and gently lifted my hand from his leg. “It’s uncomfortable that way,” he explained, moving back to give us some space.

I grinned at him, despite the awkwardness of the moment, feeling a spark of excitement as the questions I’d had about… well, the mechanics of how they worked, began to fall into place.

“The clothing we wear” – he fingered the edge of my short ensemble – “helps too.” He grinned at me. “Not when it’s wrapped like you have it, it’s pretty useless like that, but the way Sabrina had it last night.”

I nodded, showing I was following.

“If you’d gone swimming last night, and you’d, you know, breathed underwater, and swum like we do, the fabric would have clung to your legs and fanned out at the bottom, forming a wider surface area with which to move the water.”

“Yeah, you’ve kind of lost me,” I replied.

He grinned. “I guess I’ll have to show you then.”

I nodded absently, thinking about my next question.

“How did you get here?”

He frowned slightly. “We use the underground river system most of the time,” he replied. “Most of us drifted here on the powerful currents that surround Southern Africa. The first Oceanids to inhabit these mountains found a vein of cleaner water and swam up it, Sabine and later Talita posted markers in the ocean to guide sick Oceanids to this haven. I wouldn’t be alive otherwise.”

My jaw dropped.

“What do you mean? Were you in trouble too?”

He smiled sadly. “Yes, you could say that.”

“What happened?”

“You’ve heard most of my story from the sick Oceanids, except that I am responsible for the death of my family.”

“Why do you think that?” I asked, horrified.

“I am blessed with incredible sensory sensitivity. I see things sharper, hear things better, smell things more intensely and taste things in the air, and even more so in the water.”

I took a deep breath, because what he described, I’’d experienced. I just hadn’t taken much notice of it until now. Every time he’d held my hand, things had seemed more colourful, more distinct, and sound had taken on a richer quality.

He continued, oblivious to my surprised realisation.

“I’d been having an on-going argument with my father, he was a very opinionated man, about the woman he wanted me to court.” He gazed into the distance sadly. “I was so angry with him, and with my mother for agreeing with him.” He laughed once bitterly. “I was even angry with the girl they were suggesting.” He shook his head. “So I took off. Like a coward I ran away. I told myself that they’d regret trying to force me to do something I didn’t want to do.”

He looked into his palms, his long eyelashes fanning his cheeks as his mouth twisted in sadness.

“I could hear their screams, long before I could get to them,” he whispered, “their pain and fear tainted the water around them for miles. And I swam, I swam so hard and so long to get to them…”

He looked up, staring in front of him.

“Some humans had tapped into an oil geyser they couldn’t control. It burst open and hundreds of thousands of gallons of oil burst into the ocean. It killed everything around it. Fish. Coral. My whole pod, including that beautiful girl I was meant to court, and my entire family.”

“It’s not your fault,” I tried to comfort him, “the humans who drilled for oil were at fault…”

“Isn’t it?” he asked quietly. “With my senses, I would have been able to warn them, I would have got them all to safety. I am equally to blame for my lack of availability, for my lack of action as the humans who caused the tragedy in the first place.”

He sighed and shook his head, taking my hand in his. “Thank you for trying to assuage my guilt, Alexandra, but I must take responsibility for my role in their demise. You have already helped me more than you know.” He smiled shyly at me. “Watching over you and trying to protect you has given some meaning in my life again.”

“How many Oceanids have died so far?” I wondered.

He sighed. “We estimate about a million.”

“That many?” I asked, horrified.

“Our number has become drastically reduced in the last one hundred years.”

“Is it just because of oil exploration?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, pollution and overfishing have added to our problems a hundred-fold.”

I didn’t have anything to say to the horrifying realities of his species’ struggle. I hadn’t realised what a mess the ocean was in, and I couldn’t see any immediate solution to the problem.

“Do you have any ideas on how to clean up the ocean?” I asked tentatively.

He smiled at me. “Yes, we think if we were strong enough as a group we could drag a lot of the surface pollution into the fissures in the earth’s crust at the bottom of the ocean, and incinerate it there. The problem is that until now, only certain Oceanids are blessed with strength.”

“Do you think if you could share strength it would help with that part of the plan?”

He shrugged. “It’s an idea, we will have to test it.”

“And the oil?”

“That is where you need to play the most significant role in convincing humans to stop using it,” he replied. “The only way to get rid of oil is to burn it, and that sucks all of the oxygen out of the water, so we can’t be anywhere near there when that happens.”

I nodded as he slipped into silence again, feeling the pressure of having to convince billions of people to abandon fossil fuel.

It was so strange to be able to sit in silence with someone I barely knew and feel so utterly comfortable.

Eventually he stood and stretched, yawning.

“Come on, we’d better get going.”

I gazed out at the exquisite view, wanting to stay, but the mist was clearing and as it did so I gasped and clutched the rock I was sitting on. During our conversation, I’d moved to the edge and had my feet dangling into what I now discovered to be a whole lot of nothingness.

“Merrick,” I squeaked. “We’re really high.”

He laughed and shoved my shoulder gently. The tiny movement sent a wave of panic through me. “Yup we’re on top of the world.”

“How do you plan to get down from here?” I asked, scanning the amazing and terrifying view, which didn’t include any obvious way down.

“We’ll fly,” he replied.

My head whipped around to stare at him open-mouthed.

“You fly too?!”

He burst out laughing. “No of course not,” he cackled.

I was annoyed at being the subject of his glee. After all I’d seen in the past forty-eight hours flying wasn’t a completely stupid thought.

He crawled to the edge of the rock and clambered over the side.

“Come on, Alexandra, there’s something you must see today,” he said, his voice suddenly serious as he slipped out of sight.

I scrambled to follow him, carefully finding my footing and concentrating on my breathing and the rock face immediately in front of me, to keep from panicking about how high we were.

“Where are we going?” I managed to ask on an exhale, keeping my mind firmly focused on the next crevice in the rock, into which I wedged my toes.

“A very special place deep in the mountains, the ruins of Sabine’s pod’s home, before we all had to move underground more permanently,” he replied.

There wasn’t much time for conversations as we carefully descended from the mountain top, my heart thundering at each, almost missed, foothold and the rock that crumbled beneath my fingertips.

Just below the rock cap of the mountain Merrick paused on a small ledge where he waited for me before ushering me into the gloom.

We crawled through a rough rock tunnel for a few metres before he straightened and took my hand, leading me out of the mountain’s darkness and into a perfect morning.

Stepping into the exquisite morning, I’d never seen colours that bright or noticed how the crisp air had a delicate flavour of apple and mint, or how each bird’s delighted greeting flowed into a complex intertwined melody.

Merrick let go of my hand, and my senses withered. I shook my head, confused by the sudden change, and wondering why his sensory sensitivity seemed to be something I shared when he touched me. It hadn’t been that obvious every time he touched me, but occasionally it was incredible.

We picked our way through a dense forest descending diagonally. The information about Merrick’s… species – I struggled with the thought that he was different to me – writhed in confusing circles in my mind.

I blew some hair out of my eyes, a trickle of sweat running down my back as the African sun claimed the morning in unrelenting heat that seemed to rise from the ground as well as beat down from the clear blue sky.

For all that he had told me about what had happened to him, he hadn’t really told me much about who he was. This bothered me because I was curious about Merrick, curious about what made him tick, curious about why he was so determined to keep me alive. Curious because he was the first person I’d ever been able to really understand, and he was the first person who seemed to get me too.

“Merrick, where were you born?” I ventured.

“Off the coast of Brazil,” he replied.

That at least explained the slight lilting accent that rounded his words.

“So you’re a pure… er…” I struggled for the right word.

“Merman,” he finished for me glancing back over his shoulder, a smile playing on his lips.

“Er… right, merman,” I said.

“Yes, both my parents were Oceanids.”

I was silent for a while concentrating on not tripping over tree roots or walking into a spider’s web.

“Are there others from that area here?” I asked.

“Yes, many of the sick ones are from that area. Undine is the only one who has survived so far.”

“Why are so many from that part of the world?”

“Proportionately it’s pretty even, there are Oceanids from all over the globe here. The two females who have been assigned to Luke and Josh are Russalka from Eastern Europe. They are particularly talented at helping others change their minds.”

I remembered Luke and Josh’s focused attention on the women with them, understanding in that moment that it was unnatural.

“How do they do that?”

“They direct thought, so Luke and Josh will not remember you ever being part of this camping trip. If things go as planned, no one will.”

His astounding comment, thrown so casually over his shoulder, had every hair standing on end as a sliver of fear ran down my spine, and I stopped following him.

“Why do I need to disappear from their memories?” I asked him, my voice shaking in fear. “What do you plan to do with me?”

He turned, his expression immediately serious as he shook his head, putting both hands on my shoulders. “No… no, Alexandra, you have misunderstood me. We are not threatening you, if you choose to take your place as the leader you are destined to be, it will be easier for Josh and Luke, and indeed even your mother, to let go, if they have no memories of you.”

I wrenched myself away from him, utterly horrified by what he was suggesting. “My mother?” I gasped. “You want to remove my memory from Mother?” I took another step away from him. “Do you have any idea how painful that will be for her?”

He shook his head, worry creasing his forehead. “It will be much, much more painful if she thinks you are dead,” he said quietly.

I imagined my delicate mother going through the death of another child. A part of her had died that day in the pool with Brent. I’d never seen her come back to life in quite the same way again. I could never imagine putting her through something like that.

But to be forgotten by her… it was such a very painful idea.

A strange wrenching gasping noise echoed through the valley silencing the birds. I realised after a moment or two of disorientation that the noise was coming from me.

Merrick approached me cautiously. “I’m sorry, Alexandra, I should have expected that this idea would be a difficult one for you to process. I know how close you and your Mom are. It’s just that we are running out of time. In any other circumstances, we could have waited for you to grow a little older and then leave for University. You’ve seen the tragedy of our species with your own eyes, and this… this is the easiest way for the ones you love.”

I gasped at the air around me, trying to calm the sheer panic the idea of being forgotten evoked in me as he led me off the path to a lichen-mottled rock encased in tree roots and dusted with leaves. Brushing away some of the grime, he invited me to sit.

He sat beside me, watching me sympathetically.

“Tell me more about the Oceanids,” I eventually managed to ask.

“We don’t need to do this now,” he replied, tentatively putting his arm around my shoulder.

I shook my head. “No, it helps to distract me… um, tell me about the Merrow?” I managed to ask.

He smiled. “They’re probably some of my favourite people in the pod. They’re originally from the seas surrounding Ireland and Scotland, they haven’t handled the heat of Africa all that well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, their skin burns really easily, far easier than those of us born in warmer oceans, although we are all a lot more susceptible to sunburn than even the palest humans.”

“What can they do?” I asked, trying to get him to focus on the fascinating things he was telling me.

“Like Sabrina told you, they’re very talented at reading people, they can tell a person’s motives and emotions almost immediately, they also claim to be able to tell if someone is lying or not. Three of the fiercest males in the pod are from Egypt – Miengu – crazy, strong and very angry. Stay away from them, they have a bloodlust like nothing I have experienced before.” He shuddered.

“What do they look like?” I asked, making a mental note to heed his warning.

“They are huge,” he replied, “much much taller and wider than the rest of us. They also tend to stay in the shadows. Their women are also much taller and more muscular than the rest. They’ve been the cause of much dissent in the pod in recent times.”

“What do you mean?”

“They don’t believe you will be able to do anything to help us as the legend says.”

I smiled a wobbly smile. “Finally some Oceanids who are sensible.”

He frowned and shook his head. “The hope you have brought my people is the only thing keeping the Miengu from unifying us to go to war against the humans.”

I swallowed hard.

He smiled again, his serious mood lightening as he continued to try to distract me from the darkness that edged this conversation.

“Sabrina is known as a water-sprite, her particular talent is the ability to manipulate water – physically. Sabrina is probably the only other one of my kind I would trust you to.”

The cold spray from the waterfall, warming suddenly to a balmy steam bath, and the thick mist that had enabled us to escape from Laine, leapt into my memory.

I couldn’t understand why the image of mist had me fighting for breath again as irrational fear closed my throat. The strange image of me shouting, arm raised, and a tremor of energy flooding through me flashed across my thoughts again. I concentrated on the image for a few moments, and it was as if that concentration opened a door to a series of memories from the night before. A door that once opened, I couldn’t close.