Summer's Mermaid (Mermaid series Book 3)

by Dan Glover

  "I've been laying here wishing I was dead, Mr. Maon. I can feel those little monsters inside of me working at putting my body back to how it was when I was trapped in Cornell with Micah. I never want to go back to being like that again.

  "The survival instinct is so powerful, though. I knew I would succumb to Lake Syndrome if not for the nanobots... I even thought about killing myself. I couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to tell Karen how sorry I was for lying to her and running off.

  "I shouldn’t have done that to her... she's a special woman. I've got to learn how to tell the truth to Karen no matter how I think she'll respond. I guess I'm still a child at heart. Maybe I have a mother-complex... perhaps we all do.

  "I've been sick before but this time it was a special sort of hell. I think I'm pretty sure I'd have to get better just to die. I dislocated my right knee when I hit the ground and I think I either sprained my left ankle or broke it outright."

  "You'll recover quickly now that we are here. Tell me, Mr. Pete... have you anything to eat or drink?"

  "Yes... please look in my backpack and help yourselves."

  They found sea biscuits and a flask of water. Maon couldn’t remember eating a finer meal. Afterwards while Alpin stayed close to Pete, Maon searched the building for food and water but as they expected he found no eatables... but like they surmised he did come across water on the roof, stale yet potable.

  "We can't stay here long, Mr. Pete. We need to find supplies. Our best bet is to make for Cornell University. If anyone is looking for us, they'll look there first."

  The going was arduous... a steady rain had created a sludge of sand that sucked at their feet with each step forward; though Pete professed to finding his strength again it was soon apparent he was still suffering from the effects of his illness.

  "Can we stop for just a few minutes, Mr. Maon?"

  "Of course we can, Mr. Pete. Let's look for somewhere out of the weather. We all need some rest."

  The place they stopped at must have once been a train depot at one time or perhaps a museum. Though only its upper story showed through the vast sand dune covering it, they were able to lower themselves inside by entering a broken window and walking on slippery rafters to the safety of the balcony encircling the enormous room below.

  In one decrepit office they found an old bottle of sherry hidden away in the back of a broken desk drawer. It tasted sour and smelt of wax but they each had a glass. The continuous rain had chilled him and the sherry burst warm in his belly.

  Alpin pointed at a clutch of pigeons roosting on the handrail of the balcony and with a practiced aim took up a part of a broken brick to knock one to the floor. The rest of the birds took flight and though his son waited for them to alight again they must have found a safer place.

  They kindled a fire under the rent roof spearing the bird with an iron bar ripped from one of the burglar bars over the windows. The pigeon made a meager dinner for three, doing more to ignite their appetites than suppress it, but Maon thought how any nourishment was better than none.

  "I hate killing it but if life is returning, then it won't be long until the land is back to normal again."

  "You're right, Mr. Alpin... and don't worry too much about the pigeon... I've a feeling we'll need the strength it lends us before we get through this ordeal."

  "If you two are up to it, perhaps we can start walking again. I'm feeling better with our rest and with something to eat though I doubt I'll be climbing stairs any time soon."

  "Sure, Mr. Pete, we can keep going. The moon is coming up. What do you say, Alpin?"

  "We aren't waiting on me, father."

  With the stoppage of the rain a warm sweet smelling night breeze blew in from the south enabling a thin crust to begin forming over the sand making walking easier though they often broke through in places sometimes sinking up to their knees in the muck. Maon hated the stuff and the man who created it.

  "Do you think Micah died along with his nanobots, Mr. Pete? Will he be waiting for us at Cornell?"

  "I doubt he died, Alpin... as long as he was around Lady Lily he'd be okay. Whether he'll be at Cornell, I don’t know."

  "Will he be angry about the destruction of his nanobots, Mr. Pete?"

  "I think it depends upon his state of mind, Maon. If he reverted back to human form like he did before, then perhaps he'll be appreciative of our efforts. More than likely, though, I expect he'll hold some resentment over it."

  "Is he dangerous? Should we be prepared to do battle?"

  "No, Alpin... Micah has always relied on guile rather than brawn. He poses no danger in the physical sense. On the other hand, he isn’t a man to be trusted. He'll tell you what you want to hear and it will only be later that you discover his true motives."

  "Is that the wind that I hear, father?"

  Maon followed Alpin's eyes looking back the way they had come as a smile involuntarily formed on his lips.

  "Speak of the devil."

  Chapter 82—News

  She woke to Sileas tapping on her bedroom door. A low voice sounded.

  "Darling Karen... I'm sorry to wake you so early but I've news from old America you will want to hear."

  She thought at first it was a dream. It wasn’t until a second knock came, a little louder than the first, which roused her from her slumbers and brought a sense of reality rushing back.

  Pete's side of the bed was empty.

  They were opposites... he loved to sleep in, preferring to work late into the night on his never-ending projects. She, on the other hand, loved the promise of new mornings and the lure of the dawn.

  "What is it, my sweet Sileas?"

  Karen wasn’t sure she wanted to know. They must have found Pete's body in the charred wreckage of the jet he flew into the ground in an effort to rid the world of the pestilence that once was Micah's miniature monsters.

  She had heard of Ena's return journey—with Micah, of all people—to old America in an effort to find her husband. Alpin was the only son of Sileas. The news of his death must have been devastating.

  "Come downstairs, my sweet angel. We have visitors."

  Throwing on her robe and rushing to the door, Karen saw Sileas was already gone. There were many voices coming from the ground floor of the villa... so many that they all ran together into a cacophony of laughter and love.

  One sound reaching her ears caused her heart to flutter and her breath to stop short: Pete had a way of clearing his throat just before speaking that she found alternately infuriating and endearing.

  It was him.

  Why hadn’t he come up to their room to waken her himself? Perhaps she was hearing things... after all, she just woke from troubled sleep and dreams of Pete. Company from the south must have arrived during the night... perhaps Nate was back from Lake Baikal with the Ladies and they stopped for a visit.

  Tip toeing down the three flights of stairs and peeking around the corner into the great room, she saw it was filled with people from all parts of old Europe: Nate and the Ladies were indeed there; Ena and her Father sat on the other side of the room, and in between were scores of others.

  Sitting on an easy chair in the middle of the room and obviously the center of attention was her husband Pete. He seemed to have casts on both legs. Alpin and Maon stood just behind him with Micah. They were all grinning and accepting congratulations from the crowded room... all but for Luciana, who sat off to one side, silent and downcast.

  Karen remembered sleep walking as a child. She would at times wake up in the strangest of places having no idea how she ended up there. Most times it was a continuation of a dream she would be having. By the time she was seven years old she had all but convinced herself she could teleport herself across time and space and wake anywhere she chose.

  When she tried to tell mother of her new-found ability, she was chastised for being a liar and the treatment began. Each night, each arm and leg was tied securely with father's silk ties to the four poster bed in which she slep
t. Lying there spread-eagled, she often thought she saw a man in the shadows watching her, waiting for her to fall asleep.

  Once, when a headlight from a passing car briefly illuminated the room, her fathers' face flashed before her eyes. She could never be sure if it was really him but shortly after that the treatment stopped and instead a two-sided lock was installed on her door preventing her from leaving or father from entering. Her mother wore the key on a necklace.

  It was then that Karen made up her mind to become a doctor when she grew up... someone who helped people rather than hurt them... someone people trusted. Though she wouldn’t admit it for years afterwards, she thought if she achieved her desires her parents might actually be proud of her rather than ashamed.

  Though she became what she set out to be, she failed at impressing her mother while her father had faded away all together by then, as if he'd always been nothing but a ghost anyhow... someone she had conjured... a person who loved her for who she was and not what she accomplished.

  When she met Pete she had a brief recollection of her father's eyes peering at her in that darkened room, waiting for her to fall asleep so he could... no, she didn’t want to go there... instead, she shunned the man.

  Ignoring men had always worked for her in the past, although there were not many men interested in her it was true. It didn’t seem to faze Pete, however. The more she pushed him away, the closer he crept. Before she knew it, he had infiltrated her heart in a way no man had ever done.

  She felt faint as that wounded heart began to palpitate. She wondered for a moment if the symptoms of Lake Syndrome were surfacing again though she was careful not to leave the presence of the Lake people. Perhaps this was all a dream and she was still asleep in that horrid childhood bed straining to keep from urinating.

  A chair seemed to materialize in the center of her vision. It was all she could think of... to get there and sit for just a moment, to gather her senses, or to wake from this nightmare.

  As she lurched forward grasping with failing hands darkness rose up and gathered her in. She was falling. How embarrassing it would be for a whole room full of people to find her collapsed on the floor like a broken ballerina who tried one too many pirouettes.

  Suddenly she was being gathered in by strong arms, lifted and carried as if she weighed nothing. A voice was murmuring in her ears but her eyes would not open to see the face of who owned it. A rushing sound in her left ear momentarily distracted her until she realized it was someone kissing her neck.

  "Pete! You're alive!"

  She wondered if she was dreaming again, the way she did nearly every night he was gone. She found herself lying on the davenport reclining in his arms as all her friends and lovers gather around to witness the reunion.

  "Yes, my darling Karen, I'm alive. I managed to eject from my cockpit just before the jet crashed. I'm a little banged up but otherwise I'm fine."

  Karen had never been happier until Luciana's face swam into view and she realized everybody but Kirk was there. A glow of relief flooded her friend's cheeks yet her brow was knit in pain and worry for a husband still lost and probably not coming home again.

  "I'm so sorry, my precious Luciana... please come sit with us."

  Nate and the Ladies made their way through the throng to stand beside Luciana.

  "I'm going back to old America to find Kirk, precious Luciana. I haven’t forgotten him. I'll bring him home to you."

  Outside the sun was glittering off the undulating white-capped waves of the ocean as it dipped below the horizon. Karen relaxed into the arms of her husband as she closed her eyes and dreamed of stars shooting high overhead.

  Chapter 83—Disease

  Everyone came home but Kirk.

  She didn’t know how to explain her father's absence to their daughter. When Amanda and Ginger asked Luciana to attend a celebration she refused. The last thing she felt like was making merry with Kirk lying somewhere dead or worse.

  "Come and go with us, precious Luciana... it will do you good. And Candice will be able to visit her Grandmother Sileas. I heard some of our people were rescued from old America. Perhaps Ena found Kirk too."

  "He's dead."

  It was the first time she spoke the words and believed them.

  He promised that he would come home and Kirk had never lied to her. He swore that he could not live without her but when she wondered why he had to go with Nate he had no answer other than he had to.

  "He is my friend, my lovely Luciana. He saved my life more than once. I own it to him."

  "But I love you, my darling Kirk. Doesn't that count for something?"

  She knew better than to forbid his going. If she had done so, he might well still be alive but he would be a shell, an empty husk never again to be filled with love and laughter. She loved him too much to make him over into her image of desire.

  It was cold in the north of old Scotland. She had never liked the springtime until she moved to the south of old France and discovered sweet sunshine and warm ocean breezes instead of cold rain and the north wind.

  The villages they passed through on their journey were all rotten and nearly gone back to nature. She closed her eyes to the desolation thinking back to her childhood and the years of quiet desperation.

  She thought she had escaped. Now she realized this was where she belonged, amid the chilly damp that crept up from far under the earth and blew in foggy off the ocean. Standing in front of the villa where she had grown up a gray mist blew in off the sea coating her in brine and sending shivers running from her toes to the top of her head.

  "What's the matter, mommy? Have I done something wrong?"

  "Of course not, my sweet Candice... I miss your daddy, that's all."

  She hadn’t realized she was crying until her daughter began squalling too. It broke her heart to think of the child growing up without a father the way she did, all the while wondering what was so wrong with her that her own father wouldn’t spend time with her. She knew she wasn’t a good person but the other kids on the Isle of Skye were just as rambunctious and their father never left them.

  Her father Alpin wasn’t dead but he might well have been for all the time he spent with her. Once she managed to talk him into taking her with him into the Grampians but she had said something wrong. Before they had even set out on their journey, he chastised her and sent her away. After that, she never managed to work up the courage to ask to go with him again and he had never offered.

  Her mother did her best to shield her from the pain of loneliness and sense of loss that became overwhelming at times. On her eighteenth birthday she announced that she was leaving the Isle of Skye to live in the south of old France. Still, she made one last effort to lure her family into coming with her.

  "I hate it here, mother. Why can't we move where it's warm? I know you and Niall will love it in Toulon."

  "I'm sorry but I could never leave your father, my darling Luciana. Promise me you'll come to visit."

  She knew what the answer would be before Ena ever spoke. Now, here she was, coming home again and this time to stay. The gray dawns, cold surf, and surly days matched her mood. She finally understood why her mother refused to leave.

  "Take me with you, Luciana."

  Niall had come to her the day she left begging to go with her. He was just a kid yet but she was tempted to bring him along until mother approached and shamed him into staying.

  "I'll be alone here if you go, my sweet Niall. Wait a few years, at least until you're Luciana's age. If you still wish to go, I'll take you myself."

  She could see it in his eyes: he was torn between his desire to travel to warmer climes and his love for mother. Luciana didn’t think it was fair, the game Ena played. She left Niall there anyhow.

  It didn’t surprise her when Niall showed up a year later at Toulon and convinced Grandfather Nate to teach him about the winery nor was she shocked that Grandfather assented to him staying on.

  Before leaving Toulon for the Isle of Sky
e she talked with her brother the way they used to... she shared secrets with him the way she couldn’t with anyone else.

  "I keep dreaming about Kirk. He isn’t the same, though. He has grown larger and his eyes are the color of steel, Niall. He scares me but I love him just the same. I wish I could convince Grandfather Nate to go back to old America and find his body."

  She felt guilty putting her fears on her younger brother but there was no one else to talk with about them. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was surreptitiously putting thoughts into her brother's mind that were better off unsaid.

  "I'll go, Luciana. I know how to fly Grandfather Nate's machine. As soon as mother returns, I'll fly to old America and find Kirk for you."

  She knew she should have discouraged Niall from his ambitions but her heart ached so badly that she kept quiet. In actuality, she told herself that Niall was only mouthing the words... he would never make the trip clear across the old Atlantic ocean. The boy would merely get lost and turn around even if he did chance it.

  She was happy for Karen... glad to see her husband Pete was safe... happy to glimpse father and grandfather there too... but through it all she kept seeing Kirk lying cold as stone in a faraway place from which he would never return.

  "I'm going back for him, darling Luciana."

  Grandfather Nate had spoken to her but his words didn’t seem to register. She didn’t want to blame him... he was family. She knew he meant no harm. She understood the friendship that bonded the two men together, a love that would make Kirk follow Nate into the pits of hell if need be.

  She wanted a love like that... perhaps that was what made her fall in love with him in the first place: Kirk's incredible loyalty and perseverance in the face of inevitable failure. He was a member of a species on the verge of extinction and no matter what he did, he couldn’t change that fact.

  She was part of the Emergence.

  Luciana heard the term used in a derogatory way when she was five years old. She had been swimming in the sea. Walking out onto the shore the girls of the People were taunting the boys of the same mixed lineage she shared, calling them names she never learned before. That night she had asked her mother what they meant.