by Tracy Deebs
Page 21
We have a situation. How far away are you?
I sucked in my breath, held it while I shot through both narrowed passages like a rocket. New scrapes bloomed on my shoulder and stomach, but I didn’t let myself pay attention to them. I’d known Hailana for eight months now and never had I heard her sound so anxious.
I’m about two hours away, I told her, already wincing as I prepared for the ass-kicking I knew was coming.
Two hours away? she demanded. While injured? And on duty?
Technically, I’m not on duty. Because of my injuries—
I didn’t remove you, she snapped. Which means, technically, you’re in direct violation of our training protocols.
Direct violation? Training protocols? I nearly snorted up lungfuls of water as I struggled not to laugh. But seriously … When did you start talking like we were in a James Bond movie?
Since we’ve been overrun by refugees and I need every pair of hands I can find.
Refugees? The word felt strange, foreign, here in the ocean where life was so different, so much less politicized, than it was on land. From where?
Get back here and I’ll explain everything.
Hailana—I started to ask more, but she was gone, the connection between us severed so completely that it was like it had never been.
I tried to reach for her, to speak to her, but no matter how hard I’d been training, I still couldn’t get the hang of initiating long-distance telepathy. I could answer when someone—usually the merQueen or Kona—spoke to me, but I couldn’t figure out how to reach across miles of ocean and open the conversation.
I sped home as fast as I could, ignoring the fish and other sea creatures that wanted to play. Refugees? I mused. From where? And why had they come to Hailana? I had trouble seeing her as the altruistic type.
About ten miles out of Coral Straits I saw them, mermaids carrying messenger bags, backpacks, and duffels as they inched their way toward my city. Some were in groups, some were straggling on their own, but they all had something in common—they were moving slowly and looked so bruised and defeated that it was like they had already given up.
What could have done this to them? What could have turned such normally vibrant creatures into these hopeless people? An underwater volcano eruption that buried their city? A massive earthquake along one of the fault lines?
I could only imagine.
I wanted to stop, to help, but there were so many of them that I was afraid of being buried in their stories, in their grief, and never making it back to the city where I could do more good. I sped past them, determined to make it into Coral Straits where I could take up a position to help get the refugees settled. But as I rocketed along, it grew harder and harder to keep going.
So many people, so much suffering. I wished I had some food on me, some blankets for the little ones shivering despite the relatively warm water. Were they in shock? Injured? Because mermaids could regulate their own temperatures, despite being warm-blooded creatures, it was rare for us to be either too hot or too cold—at least in the water.
My concern for the little ones doubled. I swam faster—maybe I could gather up some supplies and bring them back here. These people didn’t need to suffer any more than they already had.
My headlong flight stopped abruptly the second I saw him. Young, no more than five or six, he was curly-headed with bronze skin and huge brown eyes ringed with lashes. And he was injured, his little arm wrapped up in a bandage and a sling that was way too big for him.
I couldn’t help it—I had to stop. He reminded me so much of Moku that it just ripped my heart wide open.
Swooping down, I squatted—or did the closest thing to a squat that I could with a tail—and asked, Hey there, big guy. You doing okay?
His lower lip trembled and those huge eyes filled with tears. I want my mommy.
Of course you do, sweetheart. I looked around. Where is she?
One of the women on the trail—who had three young children hanging off her—whispered to me, She didn’t make it.
Didn’t make … I froze in horror as I realized what she was saying. And his father?
The woman shook her head. I’ve been watching out for him on the trip, but it’s been hard. She gestured to the kids in her own arms, none of whom looked older than four.
Let me see if I can find someone to take care of him. Okay?
She nodded gratefully as I picked him up in my arms. What’s your name, baby?
Liam, he told me. His lower lip was trembling.
I’m Tempest. How about a piggyback ride?
His eyes grew wide. A what?
Hmm, maybe some things didn’t translate from land to water. How about a ride on my back?
A sea-horse ride?
Sure. A sea-horse ride.
He nodded, and scooted so that his arms and legs were wrapped around me. Like all mer children, he wouldn’t grow a tail until he’d proven himself, sometime after his adolescence hit.
How fast do you want to go? I asked him as I took off, careful to keep a secure grip on his legs.
Superfast! he cried, bouncing up and down a little.
Superfast it is, then. Hang on!
I sped up, staying low to the ground to cut down on the current for him. I also moved away a little from the refugee path. It was so depressing, so awful, that I wanted Liam to have a little break from it. He had a hard road in front of him—the least I could do was give him a few minutes of fun to try and take his mind off everything he’d lost.
When we arrived at Coral Straits, I whipped through the huge gates that were more decorative than protective. I’d planned on swimming right up to the castle, but one look at the city had me stopping dead, my head whirling with the difference a few hours made.
The training fields were filled with huge white tentlike structures. At the entrance to each one were two long tables, staffed with merpeople from my clan. They were checking in the long lines of people that snaked from the tent, handing out packets of food and the waterproof blankets we used down here. It looked so much like the scenes I used to see on TV after disasters on land that I almost couldn’t process it.
I don’t know why, but I guess I’d never thought anything like this could happen under the surface. It was strange to realize that it could. Even more so that it had. Looking at all those people who were wounded, hungry, who had lost their homes and their families, made me realize that, in some ways, the ocean wasn’t as different as I’d thought.
Tightening my hold on Liam’s legs, I swam as fast as I could toward the castle. Hailana often spent evenings out of the water, on her island, but I was guessing that with everything going on, she was in the ocean.
I didn’t even make it to the castle before I spotted her. She was on the outskirts of the tent city that had sprung up from nowhere, deep in discussion with Sabyn, a couple of her advisers, and a number of mer that I didn’t recognize. I wondered if they were from the incoming clan.
Liam and I zoomed up to them, and though I had planned to lurk at the back of the group, Hailana spotted me right away and waved me to the front. I’d never seen her look so grim, which was saying something as Hailana was not a big smiler. Now, however, she looked like the world really was crashing down around us.
What happened? I asked, suddenly not sure I wanted to know. Something told me that a natural disaster wouldn’t put the slightly bemused, slightly horrified look on Hailana’s face.