A thunk came from the tank.
“Watch out!” Tardiff yelled, pointing at the tank.
Garrett whirled to see what could make Tardiff panic.
The shark-man swam straight at them, never slowing—even when he rammed the viewing pane. Thunk.
The acrylic pane held. The shark-man rebounded backward, shaking his head.
“Hey! Lemme go!” Tardiff yelled.
Garrett turned with his two classmates.
A balding man in a dark grey and charcoal-spotted hooded sweatshirt held Tardiff by the back of his neck. A preppy kid in a white sweatshirt with a black hood stood beside him. Garrett didn’t recognize either of them, but he remembered the dwarf standing in front of them.
All three had focused on the tank, their faces awe-struck.
“Mère de Dieu…” the chaperone said. “Le Marteau Silencieux.”
“For once, it appears you weren’t lying, Lenny,” said the preppy kid. “How in a blue hole did a Nomad wind up here?”
Garrett looked back at the hammerhead tank. They can see him too!
“Not him, Oscar. Not the Nomad,” the dwarf said. He pointed at Garrett. “Him. Look at his leg!”
Oscar grinned at the sight. “So it is true…”
“Wha-what’s wrong with my leg?” Garrett’s voice cracked.
“Ya see, Oscar? He don’t know what’s happenin’, do ya kid?”
“What do you mean?” Garrett asked. “Why does my leg feel like rubber?”
Again the shark-man hit the pane, and once more, it held firm. The force at which he hit seemed to have dazed him. The shark-man swam to the back of the tank, slower this time, and his upper body began to change.
The grey around his waist seeped upward, similar to the way Garrett had seen Wilda’s tail do. His arms vanished at his sides and turned to triangular fins. Each of his eyes drifted toward the closest ear and then jutted outward like grey fleshy telescopes on either side of his head. His nose shrunk and disappeared. In a matter of moments, the man disappeared. Only the Great Hammerhead remained. The shark swam for the viewing pane and rammed it again.
Garrett saw a hairline crack forming. He’s trying to break out!
“Oscar, we gotta get this calf outta here!”
“No!” said the older man. “We should keel ‘im now.”
“Are you both completely mad?” Oscar said. “We’ll take him back to my father!”
Marrero tried to make a run for the hallway while the three of them argued. The older man noticed. He flung Tardiff at Marrero.
Garrett crawled backward. How did he…he just threw Tardiff!
Both teens hit the wall.
“Henry!” Lenny yelled. “Whattaya doin’!”
Henry dove on top of Tardiff and Marrero, snarling and letting his fists fly at their faces until neither teen moved.
“Get away from my friends!” Bennett rushed the older man. He leapt for a tackle that would have laid most boys his age out flat.
Henry absorbed the blow.
Bennett redirected his attack. He attempted to lift Henry in a fireman’s carry, a move Garrett had seen he and Marrero perform a thousand times to great success at wrestling tournaments.
Henry grabbed Bennett around the waist and upended him into the air. He grabbed the teen’s chest and power-bombed him into the floor, cracking both the concrete and Bennett’s spine.
Bennett’s head rolled to the side at an awkward angle, his face expressionless.
He’s dead. Garrett gulped. He just killed Eddie Bennett!
“Have ya lost ya friggin’ mind, Henry?” Lenny shouted.
“Quick!” Oscar yelled. “Get him, Henry!”
Henry wiped the blood on his knuckles across his lips. He started toward Garrett.
“No! No!” Lenny tried to tackle Henry and missed. “Talk to him! He don’t know no betta!”
Garrett hurried to his feet.
Henry grabbed Garrett by the wrist.
Garrett remembered a self-defense trick his father had once taught him and grabbed Henry’s fingers, peeling them backward.
“Ahhh!” Henry released his hold.
“Get him, Henry!”
Garrett took two steps.
Henry wheeled about and pounced on him again. He swung around behind and threw his long arms over Garrett’s body in a hug, then tried to wrestle him to the ground. But unlike Bennett, Henry could not maneuver Garrett so easily. He growled and tried anew.
Garrett planted his feet and shoved backward.
Both careened off balance and slammed into the tank wall just as the Great Hammerhead hit the opposite side.
cccccrrrrAAAAACCCKK!
LENNY
The erupting water carried Lenny off his feet like a piece of driftwood caught in a raging stream. He saw the Nomad spill out before the tide of water pinned him against the wall. Change, ya idiot! Change!
Lenny fumbled for his hood, tucked into his flannel shirt, and spat salt water from his mouth. He yanked it free, donned it to initiate the changes. The water barriers that held his human body in check disappeared the second he turned into a seal. Lenny spun, his Ringed Seal body sliding across the slick floor like he would a patch of ice.
He saw Oscar fighting to stand, not yet grasping the idea that he could change into his Harp Seal form. He couldn’t find Henry anywhere. Where are ya, Weava?
Lenny spotted Garrett forty feet away. The Nomad lay between them, its head and torso already reverting to human form.
Stop him, Len! Lenny swam for the pair of them.
The Nomad grabbed Weaver’s leg, pulled him toward its mouth.
He’s gonna kill him before he drowns. Lenny launched his seal body. He tucked his head at the last and let his skull crash against the Nomad’s neck and gills. He heard a gasp and saw Weaver released. Lenny swam to the rear and dared to hop over the Nomad’s tail, then pedaled away out of reach. He used the water to slide his hind flippers around.
Weaver struggled to kick his knees above the water as he made his way for the door marked with a neon green EXIT sign above it.
Lenny pushed off with his hind flippers and swam for it.
Weaver reached the door first. He screamed upon seeing a seal chasing him and slammed it closed.
Lenny hit the door like a battering ram. It moved an inch then shut again from Weaver’s weight bracing the opposite side.
Lenny rolled to his belly. He swam for Oscar.
Free me! he said. I need ya to free me!
Oscar seemed confused.
Hells Bells! Why’d ya have to take my earrings? Lenny seethed. He barked with the seal’s voice and snapped his teeth at Oscar’s nose.
Oscar grabbed Lenny’s seal lip, then yanked up and back to strip the seal head. He did not let go. Oscar jerked Lenny close the moment he freed him. “Catch him for me, Lenny. Catch him and I’ll free you.”
Lenny saw greed in his owner’s eyes.
Oscar released him. “You heard me right. Go!”
Lenny high-kicked his way toward the exit door and shoved it open.
“What should we do with the Nomad?” Oscar yelled after him.
“Let him drown!”
No skin off my back, Lenny thought to himself. I seen how Nomads treat Selkies.
Interspersed ceiling fixtures sprinkled trickles of light down the hallway. Lenny assumed it must be an employee service area, judging by the exposed black and grey PVC piping along the walls. He saw no sign of Weaver, but he could hear footfalls far ahead of him. He ran the length of the hall until it ended in with an exit door in front of him and two more long corridors stretching to either side.
Lenny sucked his teeth. Three different ways he coulda’ ran…which way did ya go?
The left and right halls promised nothing but more darkness and the smells of wet fur and frozen fish. Where are ya, Weava?
He’s scared. Lenny reasoned. No way he hid in the dark after what he saw.
Lenny exited the facility. Outside,
a passing family gave him an odd look and noted his dripping clothes and hair.
“Whattaya lookin’ at?” Lenny asked. “Neva seen anyone wet before?”
The father ushered his wife and child down the pathway faster.
Lenny smacked himself in the forehead. Control ya tempa! Focus!
He surveyed the area. The possibilities of where Weaver could have gone seemed limitless. A nearby sign had a zoo map with pictures of different animals. Lenny traced his finger near the aquariums and found the YOU ARE HERE dot that placed him beside the walrus and polar bear exhibits.
Where do Drybacks teach their kids to go when they’re scared, Lenny wondered. He smirked and hustled toward the zoo’s security station. Through the tree line, he saw a circus tent with alternating rows of yellow and orange streaming down the top. He had seen children huddle beneath it earlier that day. Police and several men wearing navy jackets occupied it now.
Lenny stopped near the edge of the common area and hid behind a pine tree.
The family he had scared off was walking toward the exit. One of the officers waved for their attention, ran over, and had a verbal exchange with the father. The mother raised a hand to her chest and pulled her child close with the other.
Whateva they’re talkin’ about can’t be good news, Lenny thought, watching the officer escort them through the exit.
Two men in U.S. Marshal jackets guarded the gates. Lenny put the elder one in his mid-fifties, the other, young and fresh out of whatever academy spewed out Dryback law enforcement. Lenny watched the younger marshal check the woman’s stroller and purse.
Neva seen ’em check anyone out leavin’ before.
The older marshal had both the father and mother turn around, then patted their upper backs. Almost like searching for something they might have hidden along their neckline.
Suits. Lenny’s gut warned. They’re checkin’ for Selkie suits.
Lenny sent out a warning thought to his team before remembering he was both deaf and mute to them.
A group of teenagers approached the exit. All of them happy and joking, save one who drifted neared the back, attempting to rub his clothes dry.
Weava.
The officer who escorted the family out fast-tracked his way toward the group.
Weaver bumped into the girl in front of him when they came to a halt. He shrank back upon seeing the officer corner their group. So did the other teens. All of them huddled close together like a flock of sheep. The officer acted as their shepherd, herding them closer to the zoo exit.
Lenny watched the two marshals perform the same checks on each student as they had with the family. Both took extra time checking out Weaver and had him take off his wet T-shirt. The marshals conferred with one another. Then the elder spoke on a radio before allowing the group and Weaver through the gates.
Lenny clenched his fists. Henry, ya son of a sea cook! Why’d ya have to take my earrings! I coulda’ had Ellie round him up while I’m stuck in here!
He turned back to the circus tent.
The police scattered in groups of twos and threes throughout the area.
Lenny left his hiding post to hunch behind a trashcan, closer to the exit.
Barricades ringed the perimeter outside the exit. Crowds of patrons stood behind them, talking to one another and pointing toward the zoo. Some shrugged at their neighbors, gossiping.
Lenny’s heart pumped faster. Have to get outta here…but how and where?
A glint of light caught his attention. It came from a man wearing a black cowboy hat outside the front entrance. Lenny noticed the man also wore crystal-stud earrings. Alone and unafraid, he had the air of an old gunslinger awaiting his dueling partner before sunset.
And if I can see him…
The cowboy raised a radio to his mouth. A moment later, both marshals guarding the exit left their position and made their way straight for Lenny.
Lenny power-walked back the way he came. He saw the polar bear paddock ahead and cautioned a backward glance.
The marshals followed him, and both took longer strides than he.
“Hey!” the younger shouted. “Slow up a minute!”
Lenny pretended not to hear. What do I do? What would Pop do?
Footsteps like thunderclaps drew closer behind him.
Lenny resisted the urge to look back again, to signal his chasers he knew they wanted him. Lenny passed the polar bear sign.
“Leonard Dolan!” the elder marshal yelled. “Stop!”
Lenny’s blood ran cold. He turned to face them, frightened, but determined to hide it. He noticed both marshals wore crystal-studded earrings. Looks like both of ya been Salted too, huh?
“We want to talk to you,” said the elder.
The younger already had a hand on the grip of his holstered Glock 23 handgun.
“How do ya know my name?” Lenny asked.
“Where’s the rest of your crew?”
“Ya mean my class?”
The elder grinned. “If by class you mean Selkies and Silkies, then yes.”
“Keys and silties?” Lenny played dumb. “What’s that?”
“Where are they, Dolan? Your crew and captain.”
I’m the captain. “I don’t—”
“Your group is in real danger out here on the Hard,” said the elder. “There’s more than one crew hunting you. If any of them caught you, well, I don’t think it’d be pleasant. If you gave up your captain, they may let you go free…but I doubt it.”
“He’s not going to tell us anything,” said the younger.
“I dunno what to tell ya, believe me,” Lenny said. “Ya say my crew, but—”
“Your crew consists of Oscar Collins Jr.,” the elder said. “Son of slave trader August Collins, also known as Crayfish Collins. That’s why you have a crayfish branded on your left wrist.”
Lenny’s left hand twitched. How does he know that?
“Others belonging to August Collins…catchers Leonard Dolan, Paulo Varela, Ellie Briceño and Racer, a sprinter slave with no surname. Also contracted, slave trader Henry Boucher and his property, Chidi Etienne,” the elder rattled off the names like he had a list in hand. “And your captain…Marisa Bourgeois.”
Marisa—our captain? Lenny kept his expression neutral. “How do ya know all this?”
“Where’s the rest of your crewmates, Dolan?” the elder asked.
“Ya keep callin’ me Dolan…My name’s Lenny. Wanna tell me what they call ya, Paddy?”
“Smith. This young man beside me is Deputy Foster.”
“And I’m a Nomad,” Lenny called out the lies.
Smith chuckled.
Foster did not. “Tell us what we need.”
“All right. Ya want my crewmates, or the captain? Ya only get one and ya gotta ask nicely.”
“We’ll take both, nipperkin,” Foster spat. “And you’re going to answer all Deputy Smith’s questions too.”
“Ooh, or ya gonna make me, right?” Lenny said. He pulled the neckline of his Selkie outfit down, revealing his chest and scars. “Ya see these? Know what they’re from?”
Foster gave no reply.
“Nah, ya wouldn’t,” Lenny said. “Ya don’t have any do ya, Fosta? I got all these for not snitchin’. Got even more down my back. I’d show ya, but I can’t get outta this sealskin by myself. ‘Course ya wouldn’t know why I can’t do that either, would ya?”
“Quit stalling, Dolan,” Smith said. “Where—“
“They left me all right! Is that what ya wanna hear? They left me!”
“And why would they do that?”
“I could see why,” Foster said. “The nipperkin probably slowed them down.”
“The son of Declan Dolan, slowing a team of catchers?” Smith scoffed. “Not likely. You and your crew are pretty far from the Salt. Who you after? And don’t tell me you’re running. You have the Crayfish’s son with you, so I know that’s not the truth. If Oscar Collins was your hostage, we’d have heard about it by now.�
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Ya remind me of Pop, ya know that, Smitty? Lenny thought. He studied Smith’s hard, but honest, face. Always know the answer to a question before ya ask it, don’t ya? ”Ya been there…haven’t ya, old timer?”
Smith rolled back his sleeves, revealed a purple conch shell with the numbers 8241969 tattooed on his left wrist. “I’ve been there.”
“Tell us who you’re after,” Foster said. “Might be we could help each other.”
“No one helps,” Lenny replied. “If ya’d been to the Salt like the old man ya’d know that.”
Smith’s earrings twinkled. “All right, Dolan. Let’s go. Captain says to bring you in.”
“Uh huh. And who is he?”
Both marshals ignored his taunts. “We can do this one of two ways—”
“Which is that?” Lenny asked. “Ya guys lemme go and walk away, or I take ya both down first? Don’t let me fool ya…I may be little, but what I got, ya can’t handle. Smitty there tell ya us Selkies are stronga than Drybacks on their best day, Fosta?”
Foster reached over his shoulder like he meant to scratch his back. He held a tanned hood when he brought his hands back up. Foster let it fall down his back.
Aw, crap. He’s a speedsta like Racer...a Sea Lion.
Smith took out his gun and pointed it at Lenny. “What’ll it be?”
Lenny flicked the sweat from his brow away. Is this what runnas feel like?
“He’s going to run…”
Lenny watched Foster fan out, forcing him to decide which deputy to keep his eyes on.
“No, he won’t. He’s a Dolan,” Smith said. “And Dolans are smarter than that, aren’t they, Lenny?”
Foster stood within five feet of Lenny. He grinned. “Do it. Run. I dare you.”
Runnas cry and beg.
“The old man’s right,” said Lenny. “I don’t run. Didn’t anyone tell ya, Fosta? Dolans fight!”
Lenny darted in to punch Foster in the stomach. When Foster sidestepped his attempt, Lenny slid to his left knee. He swept his right leg behind Foster’s foot and drove his stocky body into the young deputy’s kneecaps.
Foster fell backward.
Lenny released his hold and scrambled to the bigger man’s chest. Unleashing the hatred he kept bottled up, Lenny pummeled him in a hurricane of tiny fists.
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