Brine (13 page)

THE RAIN LET UP AS THEY APPROACHED THE HOUSE. Ishmael set the buckets down by the back steps.

“I’m going for a swim.”

“Might as well. We’re soaked already,” Maggie said, leaving the soggy picnic basket on the back steps.

Ishmael blinked her eyes as raindrops caught her eyelashes. “You’re going with me?”

“Hector was smart enough to drill holes in the bottom of those buckets. Those berries will be washed by the heavens by the time we get back.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Ishmael asked. “Now?”

Maggie passed Ishmael and headed for the dock. “Let’s get a move on. Lightning’s let up for now. Another storm’s on the way.”

The rain came down harder and drowned out any chance of discussion as they headed to the creek. Maggie pulled the leather cord from around her neck and dropped her hat on the dock. Ishmael slid out of her shoes and dove in.

She was already soaked, so it wasn’t the wetness that was satisfying. It was the confidence she felt in the water, the security. She stripped her pants and threw them in a wet pile on the dock. Maggie secured a ladder she had retrieved from the rafters to make it easier for her to climb in. Ishmael paddled through the water with her arms, relishing the immersion, freshwater droplets tickling her scalp from above.

She felt the change beginning and dove beneath the surface. Underwater, with large sweeping motions of her arms, she pulled herself, tasting the wonderful saltiness on her lips. She closed her eyes and swam deeper into the embrace of the ocean: her mind was empty, all worries gone. As soon as she felt the completion of the shift, she kicked her tail and propelled herself forward, shooting through the water. Her arms trailed by her side, eyes open despite the saltiness, her body pleasantly powerful and capable in this aquatic form. She remembered Maggie, circled back, and surfaced.

“That was quite a long breath hold,” Maggie said, leaving the ladder hanging half-secured. Her attention was on Ishmael. “In no time, holding your breath will become even easier. You’ll be able to dive deeper. Stay under longer.”

The sky had shifted momentarily from gray to gold. The rain came down only as a soft drizzle.

“You coming in?” Ishmael asked.

“Lift your fluke. Let me see it,” Maggie said.

Ishmael leaned back in the water, balancing herself with small propulsions of her arms. Her tail surfaced, and she and Maggie both smiled.

“It’s breathtaking,” Maggie said.

“I would have to agree.”

“You know, your mother has been known to accomplish half-hour breath holds.”

Ishmael gaped. “Impossible.”

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. “Ever heard of the Ama divers off the coast of Japan?”

She paused to watch Ishmael shake her head.

“You should look them up. Mainly women. Some of them
old
women like me. They dive with no gear, no air tanks. Just their able bodies.”

Maggie went back to work on the ladder.

“A long breath hold is about training the mind,” Maggie added. “Teaching the mind to stay calm when the diaphragm spasms. You’ve felt those spasms before. I’m sure you have, and the impulse is to gulp for air. But if you can get past that, the body will recalibrate.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Dad-gum. I never can seem to make this ladder sturdy enough. Not sure what I’m doing wrong. . . . Oh, well. Good enough. No more stalling.” She looked toward Ishmael with a grin. “It’s now or never.”

But an object caught Maggie’s eye, and her expression shifted. “Did you put that crab pot up here?” Maggie asked. “My goodness! Has it been here this
whole time
?”

Ishmael was just now noticing that Hector’s big boat was not at the dock. She certainly hadn’t noticed a misplaced crab pot.

“Where is it?” Maggie spun around, keeping her eyes focused down on the water. “Have you seen it?”

“Seen what?” Ishmael asked.

“One of them is here. The crab pot on the dock means there’s a message for us.”

Ishmael’s eyes darted across the creek, looking for a ripple or a bubble trail. It was odd to think that another one, like her, had been swimming right under her nose. She was awed by the stealth.

“Maggie, I—”

“There! Look! Two of them!”

Ishmael looked but saw nothing; she only heard Lena’s heavy footsteps coming down the dock. Lena seemed in exceptionally good spirits.

“Phew-wee. Leon’s gone to pick them clowns up at the boatyard since a storm’s brewing. They was
hung-over
in my kitchen this morning! I tell you! They all went out on the boat, though. Thank the Lord. Keep them from lounging around all day eating junk food and messing up my clean house.”

Chatty as a cheerleader, just as Maggie had predicted. But Maggie wasn’t listening. Maggie seemed to be in a zone, scanning the creek with intense focus.

“Just letting y’all know that we might be eating a little later than usual. Leon’s joining us. I invited him. Saw y’all got us some good berries. They’ll make us a nice pie.”

“Lena, I think Maggie—”

“Looking good, Ishmael.”

Lena seemed in no way surprised that Ishmael was in the water with a tail. She walked over to the half-hung ladder and easily adjusted it so that it was secure. Finally, she spied the crab pot, and her eyes darted to Maggie.

“Oh, Lord. Here I am jabbering away!” Lena seemed to shift into another gear. “Shoot, Maggie. I’ll head on back up and stall Hector when he gets back.”

Lena turned and headed back across the lawn: it was the fastest Ishmael had seen her move.

“Stall who?” Ishmael asked.

There was a loud shrieking noise, and Ishmael felt her skin crawl. She kicked with her tail and shot out of the water, perching herself on the edge of the dock for a better view.

“What the hell was that?”

“They’re trying to communicate,” Maggie said. “It must be young ones. They don’t know the hand gestures.”

Ishmael’s eyes shot to the water beneath the dock. From the shadows, two faces appeared. Their bodies were fit and sturdy, their shoulders chiseled, their arms defined with ropy muscles even in their youth. A male and a female. The male had the pubescent beginnings of a stubbly beard. The female wore multiple bracelets roughly braided with shells.

Teenagers
. Ishmael almost laughed out loud. She remembered being that age. She’d persuaded her dad to buy her a whole slew of neon jelly bracelets. She imagined what a different life these two must lead. There was nothing plastic about them. Their cheeks were radiant with health, their teeth clean, their eyes fierce but bright. Ishmael was enchanted.

The male in the water opened his mouth, and Ishmael cringed. The noise stung, and she slapped her palms over her ears.

“We have to tell them they can’t do that,” Maggie said when the obnoxious chattering finally stopped. “I don’t want Dan showing up asking questions.”

Ishmael’s mind raced. Dan? Right.
Game warden Dan
.

The shriek came again and both women covered their ears. “No way Dan didn’t hear
that
,” Ishmael said.

The screen door slammed. Leon’s truck was visible around the back of the house, and Hector was already running across the lawn.

Lena stood in the doorway of the front porch, propping the screen door open with her wide arms.

“I tried! No stopping him!”

Maggie’s eyes shot back to the water and she gave an anxious look at the two in the creek. The female responded with a high-pitched chirp.

“You don’t have any idea what any of the sounds mean?” Ishmael asked.

“I’m afraid I’m out of the loop with these two.”

Ishmael’s thick skin was dropping away. She could just reach her wet clothes. She tossed them over her lower half as Hector approached.

“They don’t know the gestures,” Maggie said to Hector once he reached the dock.

“Yeah, and apparently you two aren’t so up to date on your chirps and squeals,” Ishmael said.

Hector spun toward Ishmael, his eyes narrow. He nearly growled. Maggie put a hand on Hector’s back.

“No, no, no. It’s okay,” Maggie said in a soothing voice. “We’re all calm here. Everything’s fine.”

Hector was breathing hard, almost gasping.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Ishmael asked, pulling her T-shirt over her head.

“He’ll be okay. Just keep calm.” Maggie lowered her voice. “He wants to change and he can’t. It’s frustration a million times over. Having a male here just exacerbates the situation.”

Hector crouched down beside Maggie and set his jaw, staring at her.

“It’s true, Hector.” Maggie fired back at Hector’s wild gaze. “You
must
learn to control this. You’ll spend miserable years on land until you can control this. The frustration—it’s all in your mind.” She tapped her temple with one finger.
“You
are in control.”

Hector leapt to standing and paced again on the dock. His breath grew even fiercer. Maggie watched him for a moment, but then she leaned back down apprehensively to the faces in the water. Hector continued to pound his footsteps on the dock. Ishmael sat in panic, watching the bizarre scene.

“I can’t believe they sent such young ones to relay information!” Maggie said. “This is preposterous.”

Suddenly, another face emerged from the water, sliding gracefully up from the depths. The young ones kicked their tails nervously and slid back in the water.

“A-ha! Here we go,” Maggie said.

There was no greeting. Maggie simply knelt down on the dock and held out her arm. The female’s thick, long fingernails curled around Maggie’s wrist, and she played her fingers in a staccato code across Maggie’s forearm. Maggie’s expression shifted to concentration as the female typed. Then, as if she had thought of something, the female turned to the smaller male and female and made an abrupt clicking noise. The two younger ones shrunk at the command and dove away. Ishmael watched their bubble trail as they retreated down the creek. The female turned back to Maggie and typed again.

Ishmael watched the typing curiously. “Maggie, how can you possibly get any information from that?”

“It’s basically Morse code. It was developed when aquatics first starting coming to land. It’s rudimentary, but it gets the point across.” Maggie’s eyes shot to Hector.

“It’s your father,” she said. “It’s Joe.”

Hector stopped pacing. The female typed again.

“Joe is—” Maggie turned to look back at Hector. “Hector— he’s dead.”

The female glanced beyond Maggie’s shoulder in Hector’s direction. Hector stood rigid, his only movement the heaving of his chest. The female typed again. Maggie gulped and covered her hand with her mouth.

“What is it?” Hector asked.

Maggie pulled her arm away. The female dropped back down into the water and hovered, only her shoulders above the surface.

“I’m afraid there’s more,” Maggie said, pushing on her knees to stand. “Hector, they know because they found him in the water. And when they found him—well, Hector—his body was half changed.”

Hector’s eyes blazed with confusion.

“The greater problem is that the aquatic ones left him,” Maggie said. “And others found him.”

“Others?” Hector shouted, looking beyond Maggie to the female for an answer. “Who? Who found him?”

The female merely hovered quietly in the water, unalarmed by Hector’s tantrum.

“Humans,” Maggie reported. “Humans found him. He won’t change back to full human after he’s dead—even if he dries out. The changes will stay.”

“How far along was he?” Hector asked.

Maggie looked at Hector sympathetically. “One foot was a fin, the other had webbing.” She sighed and added, “Tougher skin in patches. No fluke. No binding of the tail.”

“Where was he?”

“Atlantic side of Panama. Fishing boat found him floating offshore.”

Ishmael was silent. She was too overwhelmed to speak.

“How?” Hector asked. He swallowed, obviously trying to quell his own emotion at the news. He shook his head. “Joe couldn’t— not possible,” he said, his eyes damp with angry tears. Storming across the dock, he punched a piling but then spun around. Eyes narrowed, he asked, “What does this mean for me?”

Maggie shook her head. “I honestly don’t know.”

Lightning flashed in the distance. A black storm cloud was forming on the horizon. Maggie turned to the female for an official answer. It was obvious from the female’s expression that she had more to say. Hector rushed over, bent down and offered the female his arm. The female rose again in the water, exposing the place just beneath her navel where the thick skin began. Ishmael was enthralled, maybe even a little impressed to see Hector so comfortable with this glorious creature. It was obvious that he comprehended all that was being typed so furiously on his forearm.

The female dropped back into the water with barely a ripple, but Hector remained crouched on all fours and dropped his head in defeat. His body shuddered, and Ishmael saw he was crying. She approached him, but Maggie grasped her arm and stopped her.

“What did she tell him?” Ishmael asked.

“I’m sure only more of what she told me,” Maggie said. She turned to look at her granddaughter. “Joe Cruz was found with an alpha female. A young one. More powerful. That’s how Joe was able to change.” She shook her head, her face ashen, her eyes fragile with disdain. “The female had been strangled. They think Joe might have killed her.”

“Did the humans find the female?”

“No. Luckily, our kind found her first. They only left Joe floating out of complete contempt. But it was a careless mistake. His body should’ve never been found like that.”

“So what happens now?”

“We wait. No telling how the humans will respond. There’s nothing we can do.”

Hector stood, keeping his back to Maggie and Ishmael.

Maggie looked his way briefly but then turned her attention back to the creek, nodding to the female in the water. “She should get going, Hector.”

She walked across the dock and dropped the crab pot back in the water. The female turned with a chirp, dove, and was gone. Maggie returned to Hector and set a hand on his shoulder. He shook it off and stormed up the ramp: the door to the dock house slammed moments later.