by Ana C. Nunes
“What are you going to do, uncle?”
“I’m going to end her suffering.”
At first I don’t understand his words, or their meaning, but when he approaches the freezer and pulls back the girl’s head by her thick greenish hair, the message finally clicks. She’s still alive and her moving eyes hadn’t been a product of my imagination.
Because of the cold, she’d been paralysed and ever since the freezer had been opened, she’d started regaining muscle activity little by little. She moves her small bluish lips and the sound coming from them seems so uncanny, like a sad melody aimed directly at my heart.
I watch my uncle put the blade to her to her neck and, on impulse, I grab the nearest harpoon, the one under the staircase. “No!” I aim at him but I’m so far away that I know he’ll be able to kill her even before I take two steps.
He relaxes his hold on the blade and it slides a bit away from the girl’s neck. His smile chills me to the bone. And I recognize this smile as the same one he’d given me at dinner.
“Come on, boy. She isn’t even human. Put that down and go back to your room. There’s no need for you to gut the fish.”
His words only strengthen my resolve and I walk closer, with my legs spread apart. “She’s not a fish!”
“No, she isn’t. She’s a mermaid.” He looks back at her, his smile widens. “Did you know this region has many stories about them? But no one had ever seen one. I caught my first one three years ago.” His eyes seem to change colour and I can feel the nostalgia that sweeps over him. “Your aunt was in love with the mermaid’s taste and kept on begging me to catch another one, but I never managed to find any.”
He pulls on the girl’s hair even harder and she moans in pain, the sound is unlike any I’ve ever heard; sharp and chilling.
“She died of grief, you know? And I promised her that I wouldn’t rest until I could fish another mermaid. In her memory!” He cuts the skin on her neck, just slightly, right next to the gashes she has there: gills. “And now that I know where they hide, I’ll never have a shortage of their succulent meat.”
He increases the pressure on her neck, the red blood pools out. I stop thinking and leap forward, straight for him, unsure of how to use the harpoon. And then I stab him in the leg with it.
He howls like an animal, drops the girl and the knife, stumbles back to the farthest corner of the basement and then tries to take out the harpoon’s tip, which’s still embedded into his leg. I hear him curse loudly, but ignore his rants as I step closer to the freezer, put my arms under the girl’s mutilated body and gently remove her from the icy coffin. My hands resent the touch of the accumulated ice on her body, but I manage to ignore the discomfort. I run up the stairs as quick as I can manage, hearing my uncle’s heavy and limping footsteps right behind me.
Chapter 4
The mermaid is far from being heavy but I was never athletic to begin with. My body complains about the extra weight, especially when I reach the main door and step on the porch. The mud goes up to my ankles and my feet get stuck. I struggle to walk and only managed slow, heavy steps.
In the full moon’s light, I can see the shimmer of the water in the river bank, and hear the sound of the water as it brushes against the margin’s soil. I drag my feet through the mire, I hear my uncle following behind me and start to panic. I try to quicken my pace and look back, only to realize he’s wearing rubber boots and that the mud doesn’t hinder him as much as it does me.
My heart thumps in my throat as I try to go faster. My slippers feel glued to the ground and, in my panic, I tangle my legs and fall face-first in the mud. The girl’s body slips from hands and lands a few feet from me. We’re so close to the river-bank! I bite my lips.
As I get up, something cracks in the base of my neck and pressure explodes in my head.
“You meddlesome boy! I’ll teach you a lesson.”
I nearly fade into oblivion. I see my uncle limp across the mud, reach the girl and raise the harpoon, ready to finish it once and for all. I grab his leg and push it forward with every ounce of strength I have. He falls backwards and screams with pain when his knee bends in an awkward angle. It’s the same leg I dug the harpoon into earlier.
As I try to get up again, he rotates the harpoon up and tries to pin me down, but I slip through the mud and manage to escape. I pick up the girl again not believing how hard it is and how my head seems ready to burst.
As I look at the water’s surface, I realize I can’t remember how deep it goes. The damned headache doesn’t allow me to think straight. I look at the girl, she’s been singing all along, or maybe she’s been talking, or whatever it is that mermaids do to communicate with each other. She’s looking better already. Her skin has a more pinkish look and she can move her limbs and the smaller two fins she has under her shoulder-blades.
“Do you want me to put you in the river? Can you swim without your caudal fin?”
She’s quiet for a few long instants, and then she glances down at her missing limb. I can see her green-coloured tears running down her face. She waves a hand in front of my face, her fingers joined by a thin membrane, one very similar to the one on her pointy ears. From her frantic gestures, I can tell she’s able to swim.
Yet I can’t simply throw her into the water so I step into the river, trying to assess how deep it is.
Once more, the pang on my neck comes without warning, but this time it’s so strong that my vision turns into a rainbow display of colours, and then it all fades to black.
I fall into the water and have no strength to turn face-up, let alone swim. I hear my uncle curse me on account of losing his fish, then I hear him come into the water and splash around trying to catch back the mermaid.
I know I’ll drown. My arms and legs refuse to answer my instructions, and when I’m just about ready to give up hope, I see her hands come up under me and lift my head out of the water.
I cough so hard I can feel the water travel through my lungs, causing a pain that burns through my entire chest. The water seems thicker than usual. The mermaid holds me up with one hand and with the other takes us to shore and away from my raging uncle, who’s still giving chase, swinging his harpoon around.
She can barely keep my head above water and I’m constantly filling my lungs with everything but air. I hear a lot of noise in the water, but can’t make out anything around me. Everything’s black.
With my legs floating, my arms useless beside my body, I feel something underwater brushing against my back. I look up at the girl and her eyes are shining brightly, but they’re not focused on me. They’re locked on my uncle who’s stopped yelling and is looking around, eyes bulging out. He has water up to his chest but his arms are still above the surface. He kicks about, sinking the harpoon into the river, on a maddening dance. He turns to one side, almost falls back, splashes the harpoon to his right and then lifts it up against hit his left side. There’s movement underwater and, from where we stand, it looks like he’s right in the centre of a whirlpool.
I can’t see what’s under the water, but I get the strangest feeling that’s it’s the mermaid’s friends, who’ve come to help her. I fear for them, afraid of what my uncle might do. It wasn’t, after all, the first time he killed a mermaid and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Abruptly the harpoon slips from my uncle’s hands and, as he tries to catch it over the water, he falls back, the whirlpool stops and every movement in the water converges in the place he sank into.
Then it all goes still.
I keep waiting for him to resurface somewhere along the riverbank, but he never comes up for air and all I see are the bubbles bursting the surface. The pops slow down, little by little, until they completely cease to come. I don’t see any change in the water’s colour but I can still feel something else in it, hidden by the blinding darkness.
I turn back to the girl and she opens up her mouth, but no sound comes off it. For the first time I see her serrated teeth, like a
shark’s. The gills on her neck open and close in constant motion as she swims us to shore. It’s all strangely fascinating and I can’t take my eyes off of her.
I use every bit of strength left to get back onto firm land, even as the muddy shore makes the task that much harder. She helps me as best she can and when she starts to move away, two figures come up behind her. A man and a woman, with mouth wide open, covered in blood.
I swallow hard, but I’m not afraid. The girl waves back at me with one of her membrane-covered hands and I return the gesture, intimidated by the two other’s stare. Her parents, probably.
The three sink into the water and vanish, just as fast as they came up. I’m left with nothing but silence.
I stand there for a few more minutes, lying down close to the water, unable to move and unsure what to do next. My uncle’s gone and I doubt I’ll ever see him alive again. But what am I supposed to tell my parents?
Throwing back my head I stare at the small farmhouse, blanketed by the night. No lights are out.
With effort I manage to get up and drag my heavy legs across the mud and up on the porch where I take off my pyjamas and slippers. I leave them in the stairs and go back inside, stark-naked. In the room I’d previously struggled to sleep in, I open up the bag that’s in the chair, clean myself up with a wet towel and put on the clothes I had set aside for the next morning. Then I go into the living room to see if the fireplace is still burning. It is. I go back out into the porch and collect my things, bringing them inside. I throw everything into the fire and watch as it flickers wildly and then burns into everything quickly.
I notice how all of it is tainted red.
I close my eyes and fists and then go back to my room, close the door and lay down on the bed, convinced I’ll never be able to sleep again in my life.
Chapter 5
The next morning, mom’s voice wakes me up. “Good morning sweetheart! Have you seen your uncle, by any chance?”
I’m still sleepy, my mind is cloudy and, before I realize what I’m saying, I tell her no.
She throws back my sheets and glares at me. “Why did you sleep in your clothes?”
“I was cold.” I answer numbly, then last night’s events come rushing back into my brain and I can’t say another word.
“Well ... it’s okay. Now get up while I go outside to find your uncle.” She walks to the door. “Maybe he went out fishing.”
I nod, trying hard to believe that, but knowing that she’ll never find him.
For the rest of the day, mom and dad search for him without rest. They call for other family members and finally find his boat, still at the dock. They comb through every square inch of the farm, but find nothing aside of a bloody harpoon. The next day the police comes over and the river-searches begin, then the sea searches. It takes them three days to find his body. The official cause of death was declared to have been an animal attack, one such animal that they could not identify.
I never went back to that house and yet every time I step into the river or sea, insecurity takes over me. Sometimes I can even swear I see a fish’s shadow go around. One such fish which is missing its caudal fin. And at those times I jump, scared out of my mind. And then tell myself it’s just my mind playing tricks.
THE END
To read this and other short-stories and novels, or simply hear the news about other projects by the author, please visit Ana C. Nunes’ Blog: https://anacnunes.wordpress.com/
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Next you can read an excerpt of the author’s next novel, a fantasy which takes place in a future world where vampires and sorcerers are at war for survival.
Angel Gabriel – Blood Bound
Coming out in the first trimester of 2013
Excerpt from “Angel Gabriel – Blood Bound”
165 years ago, the world changed.
It is said the universe started with a big explosion, but on the night everything changed for mankind, it was the fireworks that painted the sky of bright colours, while the foam from champagne bottles came out in waves, and the floor was being painted in red.
On January 1st 2010, vampires and immortals, creatures humans had never believed could exist, revealed themselves, and from then on everything changed. They multiplied and we were brought to near extinction.
**
January 12th 2175, 2 a.m.
Some sounds, no matter how low, have the ability to make anyone stand on alert. The siren is one of them. We become alarmed just by hearing one, knowing they never precede a good thing. It’s one of the consequences of living in constant struggle with beings who want to drink our blood, but lack the courtesy to leave enough for us to get back home.
Getting the first coat I could find, I quickly put on my knee-high boots, and left the room straight into the hall where the dust which gathered in the ground, floated around like a mist, while hundreds of feet followed in ordained lines towards the light at the end of the tunnel. The stones on the wall remained unchanged by the commotion. The sound of the siren put me on edge as the crowd made it hard for me to go through, and I just couldn’t stop cursing under my breath, struggling to get free of the avalanche of people.
«Do not run», said the signs on the walls. One would think at times like these people would be eager to ignore them, but no. People complied.
Pushing some people aside, apologizing to others and jumping around while trying to cover as much ground as I could amongst the dark and narrow halls, I finally arrived at the patio. The light of hundreds of torches, held in hand by the residents, blinded me for a few seconds. The cave’s main gallery was starting to fill up with people; men, women and children had gathered there, still in their pyjamas.
The torches gathered more sweat to the one that already came from the general fear, for although they seemed calm, no one managed to hide their panic completely. The weak moonlight sliding down from the small skylight above the centre of the plaza reflected tender lights on many worried faces. The siren just kept on going, adding tension to the mass. And while I just kept thinking, that in case an evacuation was needed, a gathering of people such as that would be trouble, I heard someone call my name.
“Angel!” – I looked to where the voice had come from, recognizing the owner right away. Near one of the tunnels to my right, I saw Amilda’s black waves of hair, floating around while she waved at me. My adoptive sister always managed to keep a smile, even in the bleakest of time. How she managed that, would forever be a mystery.
Sticking my arms in the crowd, I made way towards her, whilst hearing a few complains about my rudeness. I quickly came to her side and took a deep breath, before asking “Where’s mom?”
“She’s already outside.” she said.
She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the right, towards the steel doors, which were open to let pass five men and women, covered with thick fur coats and with their heads gathered together in whispered strategies. When we reached them, the crowd’s hold finally weakened, and I finally managed to breathe normally. But as soon as we crossed those steel doors the cold wind from outside greeted us with an icy kiss. Another tunnel, much larger than the ones before but equally ill lighted, stretched for several hundred meters, until it reached the outside world. The wind howled like a pack of wolves, forcing us to put up our hoods and snow shades.
Leaning against the walls, several snow bikes were lined, old, redone hundreds of times from ancient parts, retouched so they could travel on accumulated sunlight, and for that same reason they all looked about to crumble as soon as someone turned them on; just like every other vehicle on the refuge.
The two me
n and the three women that were in front of us grabbed the three snow bikes closest to the exit, and left into the dark and freezing night. Amilda got into the next one, pushed the button and started the engine. It came to life with a low rumble, making the vehicle tremble.
Her eyes shone when she looked back at me, pulling up her pullover’s collar until it covered her nose, saying in a husky voice “I’m patrolling the hills. You coming?”
I smiled at her. “You think I came all the way here to catch a cold?”
“You never know …” she said, smiling.
I climbed on, behind her and barely had time to grab on before she pressed the handle and the bike started sliding down the piles of snow. Anticipating the great white I knew so well, I was disappointed to find that the darkness engulfed the landscape almost completely and kept me from seeing beyond what the bike’s lights shone upon. Several hundred meters ahead the three other snow bikes glided along the small hills, and further away, almost indiscernible, two others moved towards the North. The complete absence of clouds and the weak moon, allowed for a great view of the starry sky in all its glory; I looked up to admire it, while Amilda kept her attention on not going up to a tree or hitting a wild animal.
To most humans, the night was a curse, but I couldn’t avoid seeing in it a shadowy beauty and the flame of hope. We couldn’t truly hate what also gave us power, for not even the sun could rival with the magic from the moon and the stars, and any wizard who thought otherwise was in denial.
In the distance, the two first bikes came to a halt and it took me a few seconds to recognize the silhouette of the watchtower that rose high up at the top of a small hill. The tower was a very basic construction, slim and tall, made of wood, capable of lodging only one sentinel at a time. There were no lights in or near it and it was impossible to discern any human or animals shapes in the area. It was just too dark.
The remaining snow bikes dispersed, each going to a different hill, and Amilda did the same, going to the right and turning off the headlights. She was forced to reduce her speed and I heard her pray in a low voice. She raised her right hand towards the shades and pressed the little button next to the lens. I did the same on mine and my vision was then processed in tones of green and dark gray, and I could easily make out the hill’s curves and the tops of the trees covered in the fluffy snow that had come down that same afternoon.