Mermaids of Glendale - a novel

Chapter 17

Lorna was woken by a knock at the door of the cabin.

"Hello, Lorna?" asked a voice on the other side of the door. It was Dr. Milagros.

It took Lorna a few moments to remember where she was. Out to sea on a yacht in the Pacific Ocean as much as she was out to sea in terms of not knowing why her legs periodically transformed into a fish tail. Lorna pulled back the sheets to find that that was exactly what had occurred again while she had been sleeping.

"Ah," said Lorna, covering herself again. "Just a moment, Dr. Milagros. What is it?"

"You simply must come on deck for a beautiful sunset," said Dr. Milagros through the cabin door, his voice barely muffled by the thin wood paneling, built more for privacy rather than security. On board the Courageous Otter, there was a design aesthetic to save weight wherever possible for the overall speed and handling of the yacht.

"I have also," continued Dr. Milagros, "prepared a delicious fajita platter for sharing with our companions.”

“Thank you, Dr. Milagros,” said Lorna.

“Please, Lorna, call me Raul.”

“Yes, of course,” said Lorna. She pulled back the sheet again and looked down at her tail. “Raul, could you please send Kitt down. He said that he was going to wake me. Maybe he forgot or maybe he let me sleep longer?”

“My apologies, Lorna,” said Dr. Milagros. “Dr. Dawson is not on board at present.”

What? thought Lorna. Why would Kitt not be on board?

“Shall I expect you on deck shortly?” asked Dr. Milagros.

“Yes,” said Lorna, trying to concentrate on her tail, trying to trigger the transformation from tail to legs, focusing her will upon it. “Yes, Dr. Milag – I mean, Raul – I will come up soon.”

I hope.

“Very good,” said Dr. Milagros. “I’ll see you shortly.”

Lorna listened to Dr. Milagros’ footsteps receding, going back up on deck. Lorna sighed and looked out the small porthole of the cabin, the light coming through it a dazzling array of pink and orange, refracting off the water and dappling her tail in even more color than it already possessed.

“I’m beautiful,” said Lorna, gently running her hands along the length of her tail, from her hips on down to her caudal fin, the myriad scales slipping beneath her palms and fingertips like fine sequins. Reversing the movement of her hands, she ran them back upwards, feeling the resistance, the slight peeling-back of the scales as she rubbed them against the grain. As she did so, they began to recede, becoming her familiar human flesh once more, her lower body tingling from hips to feet as her toes and feet, calves and knees and thighs reasserted themselves. Now she only wore a tank top and resisted the sudden urge to once again cover herself with a sheet. She touched her skin again and found no sign of scales, no apertures in her legs where from they must – they must – emerge from.

Lorna found herself wondering, is this science or is it magic? Lorna preferred the former. Science was quantifiable and could in some way be reconciled.

“I’d prefer to be a chimera of biology,” said Lorna, her voice echoing in the empty cabin on board Courageous Otter. “Rather than a chimera of mythology.”

Lorna tied a floral cotton sarong around her waist, ran her fingers through her hair and exited her cabin. She went up the stairs and onto the deck, her senses met by the dazzling sunset, the cool ocean breeze, the smells of saltwater and spices, the sizzling sounds of Dr. Milagros’ fajita platter on the folding table of the lower deck.

“Good evening, Miss O’Shene how are you?” said Ricky Curtis, one of the USC Ocean Sciences students. He had already started eating, a half-eaten fajita in his hand dripping tomato salsa onto his pale blue Gap polo shirt.

“I’m fine, Ricky, thank you,” said Lorna. She looked around the lower deck, then looked up to the flying bridge of the yacht. Sandy Miller, the other USC student, was standing with Dr. Milagros and looking out to sea with a pair of binoculars and making notes on a clipboard. Dr. Milagros looked down and saw Lorna.

“Lovely to see you,” he said. “We’ll be right down. Please help yourself to the table. The guacamole is particularly good, a Milagros family recipe passed down for generations.”

Lorna, still feeling a little sleepy, stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and took a seat in a plastic Ikea folding chair at the table.

“Wine, Miss O’Shene?” asked Ricky, lifting a bottle of chardonnay from the table.

“Sure,” replied Lorna, passing him her wineglass. “Have you seen Dr. Dawson?”

“Dr. Dawson went to the island,” said Sandy, coming down the stairs from the bridge.

“Miss Miller,” said Dr. Milagros, following behind her, a pair of binoculars hanging from his neck. “Will you please get another bottle of wine from the refrigerator in the hold?”

“Yes, Dr. Milagros.”

“As Miss Miller said,” said Dr. Milagros. “Kitt has taken the zodiac across to the island with Dr. MacAvoy.”

“Kitt didn’t say he was going across again today,” said Lorna. She’d woken up hungry, especially after her long swim with Kitt, and was loading a tortilla with meat and sliced red peppers. “I wish he had told me.”

Lorna took a bite of her fajita, her mouth flooding with saliva, the spicy meat and peppers exciting her taste buds. She took a sip of wine and relished it also, crisp and cool.

“It was rather last minute, Lorna,” said Dr. Milagros. “We received a radio call from one of the resident biologists at the Mexican research station at the south end of Guadalupe Island. I offered to go across in his stead, but Kitt and Dr. MacAvoy were both quite adamant. He told me to let you sleep and that he’d talk to you when they returned this evening.”

“What was the radio call about?” asked Lorna.

“We’ve been watching the fur seals,” said Dr. Milagros, holding up the pair of binoculars. “Miss Miller and I were on the bridge when the call came in. Please don’t concern yourself. It is simply to do with one of Dr. Dawson’s – Kitt’s – recent research projects.”

Overhead a trio of seagulls were gliding in the updrafts from the warm Pacific waters, letting out plaintive cries as they hovered seemingly in one place as though suspended from the sky by invisible threads.

“Raul,” said Lorna, putting down both her food and wine on the table. Ricky moved to top-up her glass with the last dregs in the bottle but Lorna covered it with her hand. Instead, Ricky topped up his own glass.

“Raul,” said Lorna again. “What was the radio call about?”

“Lorna,” said Dr. Milagros. “What do you know about mermaids?”

Sandy came up out of the hold, carrying a fresh bottle of white wine, dewy drops of condensation clinging to the green glass.

“Where did Miss O’Shene go?” asked Sandy.

Just moments before, Lorna had taken a running jump off the lower deck of the yacht, diving into the ocean and started swimming. From the deck, Dr. Milagros, Ricky and Sandy could see Lorna’s arms working furiously, taking her toward Guadalupe Island. The splashing of her legs grew less distinct yet somehow – Somehow, thought Dr. Milagros – Lorna’s speed had increased.