Cerulean (One Thousand Blues) (6 page)

Humans have few enemies under the sea. The sectors maintain a peaceful co-existence; community members have no choice but to live in harmony, without the violence of old. Our dolphin partners can protect against most of the ocean hazards. Only the predator remains a risk.

The tiny schools of fish swimming around the wreck dart away. Remembering the reef, I turn on my back and peer up at the Surface. A small, black shape wiggles high above me, ripples spreading across the Surface.

As the object descends, its details become clearer: legs kicking downward, arms pushing through the water, a stream of bubbles billowing behind.

I cannot wait any longer and swim to meet him. As he grows near, I see Jesse’s deep brown eyes through the dull plastic of his mask. This time, when he reaches for my hand, I squeeze back. I have so much to ask Jesse, so much to say. After letting forth a set of whistles and clicks, I can see his confusion—raised hands, shrugged shoulders—seemingly universal signs of “I do not understand.” I have not thought through this plan.

I dive to the sea bottom and search the sand. The area around the boat is smooth, but goods from the boat lie buried in the sand. Finally, I stumble upon a small blade, covered in moss.

Jesse moves slower than me, and by the time he reaches the bottom, I have already begun to spell out the words I need. LIV… ABUV. The flow of the water wipes away the letters before my question is finished. I click rapidly in frustration.

Jesse finds a soft, white shell. He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the shipwreck, toward the largest hole, and then, he disappears inside.

How brave he is to enter the old vessel, without hesitation or doubt. Jesse seems different from the members of my pod. He is brave, adventurous, curious—everything I have sought to be, to fight away the darkness.

Jesse pops his head out of the hole. I squeal in surprise. When he holds out his hand, I cannot stop myself from swimming into the gaping opening after him. On the inside of the wreck, the water darkens, but there are many holes and gaps that filter small bands of light.

Jesse reaches out his hand—the hand that holds the white shell—to a wooden board on the ship’s side. “THANK U,” he writes, and the letters do not wash away.

My wonder at his quick wit in figuring out how to communicate fades with the meaning of his words. He is thanking me? For what?

My confusion must show for he adds, “MEETING ME.”

I grab the shell out of his hands. “LIV ABUV SURFAS?” Writing is such a lost art that I am unsure I spell each word accurately, and I worry he will not understand. I do not take another gillful of water until he nods. I quickly scribe the next in my long list of questions: “ON BOTE OR ON LAND?”

Jesse stares at the words before reaching out for the shell. He slowly etches one word into the wood, “BOTH.”

The Giants sang the truth. Humans can survive above the waters. Does the Authority really know? And if so, why has he hidden this knowledge from us? I stare at the small shell—grateful for its communication and frustrated at its limitations.

I hold my hand against the wood once more. “R U ALONE?”

Jesse reaches for the shell. His thumb grazes the back of my hand. “LOTS OF US.”

I look closely into his mask. His dark eyes stare back. He continues to bite on the strange mouthpiece as bubbles dance around him.

I see no signs of jest or joke. If I am reading the lost language correctly, he has written that many humans are living above the Surface. The Authority must know. How can this be hidden from someone so powerful?

But if the Authority wants it to remain unknown, then I am in great danger. What steps will he take to protect the other pod members from learning this? At what cost does such secrecy come?

I have made a huge mistake. I so desired to see Jesse again—to get answers—that I neglected to think of the consequences. I could try to explain my absence, if I am caught. But what if they discover our…
writing
? The words on the boards—in the lost language only a few still know—are clear evidence that I was here. I rub at them, try to scratch the words away; long, deep lines crisscross the board, but the white letters can still be seen. Their permanence, so pleasing only moments before, is proof that I know of what exists above the Surface.

Surely search parties have been dispatched. My only hope is to get far enough away that nobody suspects I was near the old shipwreck. I cannot be connected with this…
treasonous
writing. As icy cold fear spreads through my body, I race to leave the wreck. I swim toward the first patch of light only to realize it is too small to squeeze through.

Somersaulting in the other direction, I zoom toward the hole. In the process, I trip over an enormous metal anchor that snakes up from the sand. My head hits the rusty tip, and I bounce off, sliding to the ground. My eyes wince shut with the pain. My leg is tangled in the heavy chain that surrounds the forked metal.

I crack my eyes open. The blue of the water has been muddied by a steady stream of red.

Red! I raise my hand to my head and grimace at the pain of the open wound. Blood billows around me, swirling further away with each push of the water. We must escape. Blood brings great danger in the seas.

Jesse’s hands remove my flipper-fins, free my leg. He gently touches my face, and I can see the question in his eyes.
Are you okay?

I pull him to the hole, swim out from the wreck, and survey the waters. Red ribbons trace my path. If only there were a way to bind my injury.

I have inadvertently—stupidly—beckoned the biggest danger in the ocean, my blood calling as clearly as Haku’s whistle through the water. I swim further from the ship, still scanning the seas. Nothing… yet.

Jesse grabs my elbow. I point to the Surface and try to push him upward. He is slower with that heavy tank and his above-the-Surface limbs. I cannot allow Jesse to remain with me; he might not even realize the danger.

He shakes his head, touching my wound once more. He will not leave while I am injured. I have no choice but to put the whistle to my lips and blow. I did not want to involve Haku; I do not want to endanger her even now, but it is our only chance. Haku can swim Jesse to the Surface and carry me back to the pod complex. I blow again—louder, stronger—using the last of my energy.

My body feels heavy and tired, but Jesse supports me by my elbows. He mimics my circular glances, slowly twirling me in a circle as he looks in every direction. Maybe even he recognizes the danger brought forth by my blood. I try to focus my mind. We need to
do
something. Treading water just makes us targets as my scent flows through the water from the dissipating scarlet.

A large burst of bubbles shoots from Jesse’s mouthpiece. His eyes widen while his grip tightens on my elbows. I spin around to see the tiger shark soar through the water, following that steady stream of blood. I instinctively summon one last burst of energy and thrust Jesse away from me, using both my hands and my feet.

The tiger shark is nearly upon me. I remain frozen, exhausted, my injury affecting me more and more as the moments tick by. Everything begins to move slowly: the slate gray shark, three times the size of our dolphins; the flow of the water; the movement of the other sea creatures.

His mouth opens as he grows closer; I can see each and every tooth.

Just as I prepare for the pain of his chomp, Haku torpedoes through the water and smashes into the predator. She circles and bashes him a second time.

Haku is risking herself to save me. A hand grasps me, and I feel myself being tugged up… up… up.

Haku. I must protect Haku.

The cerulean fades into blackness.

9

Something is wrong. A heat like nothing I have felt before beats down on me. Everything feels dry… my Skin, my lips, my throat.

Dry? I force my eyes open and flinch from the blinding light before squeezing them closed and covering them with my hand.

“She’s awake,” a voice calls. He speaks the Universal Language with an odd dialect. But there are no dialects and variations left.

“Bring sunglasses.” What an odd word. Something is slid over my eyes; I start and open them once more.

Light, shockingly bright, shines down on me. This is not the filtered light rays that breach the water, nor the dim glow of pod complex lights. No… White-hot, blinding brightness comes from above and surrounds me. I squint, unable to see even with the eye coverings.

I run my hand along the floor and cry out as it snags my hand, poking my palm with the ferocity of a sea urchin.

“Hey, be careful. If you keep rubbing the wood, you’re going to get more splinters,” a soft voice sounds in my ear.

Splinters
is another foreign word, but
wood
I know. The algae-covered rot of the wreck was made of wood. Occasionally, a piece of driftwood will be carried through the pull of the water. But I have never come across an entire floor made of the substance. It should not last below the water.

The pieces finally connect in my mind: the danger, the upward swim, the bright light, the rocking.

I am where no pod member has gone before. I have breached the Surface.

I struggle to rise and am helped into a sitting position by two strong hands.

“Where…” I croak, unable to speak the words with my dry throat.

The two hands—warm and smooth—support me. “Bring water!”

A plastic bottle is held to my parched lips, and I swallow long gulps of the delicious substance. Even the water is different—fresh and so tasty, although it really tastes of nothing. I remember the briny aftertaste of the processed water of the pod. The desalinators could never get all the flavor out.

Opening my eyes once more, I look up into the brown eyes of my rescuer, only they are no longer covered by his mask. In fact, nothing covers his face at all.
Jesse
.

“You were out for a while. We all took bets on when you’d come around.”

“Where… How?” I slump back to the floor, fatigue overwhelming me.

“I’m sorry,” He runs his hand through his brown, springy curls. “The beast nearly got you. If I’d have left you down there, you’d have…” He draws a finger across his throat.

Shivers run down my body, prickling my Skin. “Haku?”

Jesse shakes his head. “It was the strangest thing. This dolphin came out of nowhere and rammed that shark. A great big tiger shark it was. Never seen anything like it. Dolphins usually keep some distance from those nasty creatures.”

“Haku saved us. Was she…? Did she…?” I cannot make myself finish. The thought is too terrible.

“You know her? Was she your Pairing dolphin?”

My nod causes my head to ache. The focus of my discomfort changes from my parched throat to my throbbing head. “The predator… took her?”

“Oh, no!” Jesse grabs my shoulders. “That was the crazy thing. The dolphin charged until we reached the Surface. After I lifted you aboard, it jetted through the water. Your dolphin is probably a bit bruised, but she’ll be okay.”

She escaped. I let my head fall back upon the boards and my eyes close again. Haku saved me, and more importantly, she escaped.

Even the bright sunlight is not enough to fight off the darkness that overcomes me once more.

*

“How’s our li’l mermaid doing?” A very tall man stands over me, looking me over as if he had caught something exotic.

“Not a mermaid,” I protest weakly.

A smile spreads across his face. “I know. I was just jesting with you.” He throws a bottle into Jesse’s hand. “Get her ‘screened up. Lily-white skin that never seen the sun is going to burn fast if we’re not careful.”

Lily-white… What is he talking about? I look down onto my teal Skin and gasp for the scaly coating has cracked in multiple places, revealing fragile skin that has never been fully exposed.

Jesse takes my hand and spreads out my arm before gently peeling away a layer of Skin. “As pretty as this is, it’ll do you no good up here.”

He slowly frees both arms from their protective scales and smears a funny smelling lotion over my newly exposed skin. “That’ll protect ‘em. Can you manage the rest yourself?” He hands me a large white sheet before hanging another sheet that blocks my view. For privacy?

My bare arms make this breach of the Surface seem so… permanent. I am unsure if I am ready to strip away my ties to the water, to Haku. But the dry Skin tightens against my body. Only my arms are free from the uncomfortable pressure.

Free—the thought reminds me of what waits in Maluhia: nothing but restrictions and confinement. My decision is made.

I begin with my toes, tearing away the shiny covering, and make my way up my legs. The exposure—showing so much of me—makes me want to curl up and hide. Our first Skin is applied immediately after birth, and a new layer is added upon each year’s remembrance of birth. No one—not mother, father, spouse—sees a person without his or her Skin. Our birth skin is too fragile and porous to survive the constant moisture of the seas.

I fashion the sheet into a long, flowing white covering. My arms and back remain exposed, but the sheet covers my torso down to my toes.