Mercadia Falling: Mermaids and Merliens, #2

By Shaka Bry

The apocalypse slows for no mermaid.

 

With the void threatening to destroy Mercadia, the queen mother scrambles to escort all mermaids and merliens through the mystical Cosmos Pool portal. On the other side lies their only hope for survival: Earth.

 

Off the coast of the Jersey Shore, Jonah fights to return to his human life. But unforeseen adventures on the Atlantic Ocean postpone his homecoming. His girlfriend is in grievous danger, his feelings for Mezzy (the fearless mermaid he's falling for) are blossoming, and there's still that unfinished business with his doppelgänger to deal with. What's a lifeguard turned sea creature to do?

 

With the turning of the tides, worlds will collide.

It's time to dive deep and get salty.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Purple Dog Press
• Release date: May 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201878344

Book preview

PART I

1

JENNIE

W here are you going? Mom?

It’s Monday, I think. Yes, it must be. Mom’s got work today. Is she really going in, though? Couldn’t she call in sick? Or call in that she’s got a traumatized kid? Does it count as bereavement if your daughter’s boyfriend is missing?

Jonah’s not missing. He’s dead. Tommy’s twisted friend killed him, and now he’s dead. Jonah’s dead. He’s dead and he’s a mermaid and he’s a dead mermaid and he’s dead.

I was just going to the bathroom, dear. Are you all right?

No. Never.

Fine, I say. Can you check the doors again?

She’s gotta be annoyed by my asking. I’ve had her double, triple, quadruple, and multiple quintuple-check them. Though I wonder if she did her due diligence every single time I’ve asked. I wouldn’t have. This time, she pretends not to have heard me, and the bathroom door closes behind her.

I can’t wait for her to pee, so I slink over to the front door, careful to stay low of the window. Not that I think a meth head could take me out with a shot through the glass. Not that I don’t trust the policeman sitting at the end of our driveway to handle any intruder before he stepped foot onto our property. Not that I think any of Tommy’s druggie friends might own a gun. I assume if they had, they would have been packing that heat on the beach Saturday night. But what the hell do I know about anything? Mermaids are real and Jonah is one! Or he was one before he got killed. Everything I’ve ever thought to be fiction or fantasy is now suspect.

The bolt is secure. I give an audible sigh. The cops have yet to locate Tommy, which is insane because he’s a worthless, homeless drug addict. How many places could he hide out?

After I gave a description of Tommy’s friend’s obscene face tattoos, the detective seemed hopeful they’d locate him.

For God’s sake, how long does it take?

I’m crouching low against the wall when I hear the toilet flush. As I crab crawl back to the sofa, the doorbell rings, and I flatten. Mom comes in and sets me on the soft cushions.

It’s just Detective McCreary, Jennie, she says. It’s all right, sweetie.

It is so not all right. If Mom only knew the truth, what would she do? She’d probably check me into a psychiatric center, that’s what she’d do.

Could the police have found Tommy and/or his accomplices? Is this good news on our doorstep? When Tommy dragged me away, those two other junkies split. For all I know they got in their car (if they even have one between them) and drove for Mexico or Canada, maybe? Sure, Canada’s closer, but aren’t all drugs manufactured south of the border?

After we’d put some distance between us and the scene of what may or may not have been a crime (I’m still not one hundred percent certain what I saw, and I guess that’s what I would attest to in a court of law), Tommy calmed me down. It took a good deal of talking on his part. Honestly, I didn’t ever know he had it in him. In all the time we’d been together, he hardly spoke more than three or four words at a time.

He tried to convince me Jonah was all right. He tried to convince himself (I think) that he hadn’t just witnessed my boyfriend’s legs grow scales. He repeated these things till he was blue in the face before I finally pretended to believe him. At least, I think I was pretending. I don’t know. But eventually, my bout of solid acting got me out of there. It got me away from him. I played along and he drove me to the end of my street. From there, I walked home and collapsed onto my bed. I stared up at my bedroom ceiling, barely blinking, until the sun rose and Mom came in to find me there. That’s when I first asked her to check the locks.

Why? she’d asked.

And that’s when I told her.

What did I tell her?

I said that Jonah and I were at Marky’s, and we went for a walk on the beach, and Tommy saw us, and he and Jonah fought, and Jonah ran away.

I told her that!

Because Tommy said no one would believe me if I told that Jonah turned into a mermaid and floated away. So I went along with the story. Mom and I went for a walk before breakfast and I cried on her shoulder. I was so out of it—sleep deprived and facing a mental breakdown—I even thought I saw Jonah drive his car past us on the road.

Jonah was a missing person. Officially. After twenty-four hours without a trace, the police slap that less-than-ideal distinction on your ghost. Maybe now that it’s been thirty-six, Detective McCreary is here to tell us he’s dead for realsies. That he washed up on the beach overnight. That his own lifeguard buddies fished him out of the water. That his body is in a lab somewhere getting dissected, analyzed, and shipped to the Museum of Natural History for display.

Good morning, Mrs. Carpilla, Detective McCreary says as Mom holds the door open for him. The patrolman who has been sitting in his car all day enters behind. Jennie.

Why are you here why are you here why are you here?

Somewhere on the more rational side of my wildest imaginings, I realize we wouldn’t be the ones being told news of Jonah’s demise. They’d go to his parents and from there, they would disseminate the shocker however these things are disseminated. I guess they’d call me personally. I know Jonah’s mom a little. She’s super nice. I just can’t bear to think of her hearing it, and then having to live with it, and then telling me about it, and oh! I might faint.

There have been some developments. We’d like to follow up on a few things.

Okay. Can he hear my teeth chattering inside my head? Are they? Something is.

You told us that you and Jonah ate dinner at Marky’s Restaurant on the pier Saturday night. It’s been confirmed by others who saw you there.

The lesbian and her lover. Scandalous.

You said that after your meal, you and Jonah went for a walk on the beach.

That’s correct, Officer. I know he’s a detective. I flubbed it. Is that bad? Does he see through me? Am I guilty? I didn’t do anything. Jonah’s a mermaid!

And that you bumped into your ex-boyfriend, Tommy Chezputt. There was some arguing, and they fought. That’s when Jonah… Detective McCreary removes a small notepad from his jacket pocket and flips through it. It’s ninety-nine degrees out today and this guy is dressed for fall. I’m sorry. You said he ran away? Is that right?

Mm hmm, I say.

Is that a yes?

Yes, yes. Yes, your honor. Oh my god!

I’m sorry, what is this about? Mom tries to save me. It’s no use. I’m toast.

Which direction did you say?

What’s that?

I asked which direction Jonah ran. You said he ran directly up the beach toward Crestview, correct?

Yeah. Is that what I said? Then yes. Because I remember we’d left his car at Marky’s, and it was weird of him to abandon it.

And abandon you, young lady.

Right. Yeah. And me. I had to walk home. All lies.

What does this have to do with that menace, Tommy? Mom asks. I told you that boy was no good, Jennie. I always told you. Have you found him yet? You should lock him up for doing drugs and being a public nuisance! He scared that poor Jonah to death, probably! Where is he?

We’re still trying to locate Mr. Chezputt, Ms. Carpilla. However, what I need to understand, if you can help me do so Jennie, is why we found Jonah’s car at Cape Regional Hospital yesterday afternoon.

What?

His car?

Yes.

Well, someone must have stolen it. Because he left it at Marky’s. Or maybe he turned around and went back for it. I don’t know. His parents work at the hospital. Maybe they got it from the restaurant and drove it to work. Have you talked to them?

Have we talked to Jonah’s parents about his whereabouts? Yes, we’ve spoken.

Everything is spiraling out of control. There’s no way back from this. How am I still vertical?

Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore have both attested to hearing Jonah leave the house yesterday morning at approximately 7:15.

No, Mom says. Jennie and I were walking around then. We would have seen his car.

Except that you’ve needed glasses for about ten years now, Mom. That was you, Jonah. I knew it!

I don’t understand, Mom says. If he’s fine, then he’s fine. What are we even talking about?

An officer stationed at Cape Regional saw Jonah enter the hospital at 7:28 a.m. We have several other witnesses who put him there at that time. We also have security footage that corroborates their statements.

What was he doing there? Checking himself in from the scrape with Tommy? How bad was he hurt?

Shut up, Mom.

Your boyfriend was visiting an old man he pulled from the water, a man by the name of James George. Apparently, Jonah said or did something to spook the old man. Mr. George hurled a television through his hospital room window and exited onto the adjoining roof. From there, Jonah chased him down and into the parking lot. There was a low-speed chase of sorts that resulted in both Jonah and Mr. George jumping off the side of the bridge and into the bay.

Oh good heavens! Mom speaks my shock for me.

Where is he now? I ask.

Mr. George is back, safe and sound in his retirement facility.

No, Jonah! I believe Detective McCreary purposefully tried to throw me off there. Sneaky.

"We’ve been trying to sort this all out, Jennie. Your boyfriend has vanished. Truly vanished. Not made-up vanished like you wanted us to believe. He’s really gone. And we know he’s an excellent swimmer. We have about a hundred witnesses who saw him pull Mr. George from the bay. Jonah rescued him twice in two days. Also, there was a freak rainstorm when all this happened. Visibility was terrible. So those witnesses’ statements may be inadmissible.

What I need to know from you, Jennie, is: What’s really going on?

He takes a step toward me. It’s the first he’s taken since he filled our doorway.

The patrolman behind Detective McCreary answers a call on his shoulder walkie-talkie. Officer Troughton, go ahead, he says. There’s a crinkle of static from the other end, and he excuses himself out onto the front porch to talk in private.

I… He…

He’s a mermaid. Jonah’s a mermaid.

Go on, Jennie. Detective McCreary urges me. He can smell my fresh blood in his waters.

The patrolman pokes his head back in and rescues me from the disaster of my own making. When he speaks, I can’t believe my ears.

They’ve found him, he says, which I’m sure is not protocol.

What? Detective McCreary replies, closing his eyes for a second too long. He’s probably exhausted.

He’s on the beach, the too-exuberant officer says. Walked right out of the ocean near Fourth Street. Naked as a jaybird. Oh, excuse my ribald tongue, ma’am.

Detective McCreary remains for a full three seconds more. He searches my eyes for any trace of conspiracy. Finding nothing in there but beauty (no doubt), he flips his notepad shut and pops it back in his pocket.

To be continued, he tells me, then turns to go. Lets roll.

Mom’s standing there stunned, but I’ve got my mojo back. I wait until the cops are in their patrol car before I snatch my keys from the dish on the light stand by the door.

Where are you going, young lady?

Mom. Really? She needs no further convincing.

All right, but I’m driving.

Fine.

Watching Mom try to hurry is like watching a frog attempt to fly. It’s just not supposed to. By the time she gets the car started and pulls out, the cops are long gone. Once we get out of our neighborhood, she surprises me with a little gas, and her old Subaru pushes upward of forty-five miles per hour.

The parking lot on Fourth is predictably full. Mom pulls up beside the cop cars and ambulance by the boardwalk. As soon as she parks, I’m gone.

A quick scan of the massive crowd and I can easily spot a group of cops and EMTs huddled near the closest lifeguard chair. I sprint, not caring that my shoes are getting all sandy. I double check. Yeah, it’s just my pair of ratty Reeboks that I wear around the house. I’d never be caught dead with these in school or at a party.

As I approach, I slow, partially because the sand is thicker here but more so because it’s all just so real that I have to take a snapshot in my mind. Come to think of it… I take out my phone, juggle open the photo app, and click the perfect pic.

Give him some room. Detective McCreary parts the crowds with authority.

Bodies move, and there is Jonah, wrapped in a blanket and sitting in the lifeguard boat at the water’s edge.

Jennie, he says and smiles.

Jonah, I say, and I think I’m smiling. I run to him and give him a big hug and borderline inappropriate kiss. He’s glistening from head to toe, and I’m suddenly aware that I’m sweating through my pajama pants. And oh my God, I’m wearing pajamas with space kittens on them!

Okay, that’s enough, lovebirds. Detective McCreary breaks us up. I take a better look and see that Jonah has his great set of legs. No tail. That’s a step in the right direction.

Okay, son. You’ve had a lot of people worried. You want to tell me where you’ve been since your little bridge stunt yesterday?

Jennie, he says again, still smiling my way. It’s a little off-putting, but who knows what he’s been through. I have so many questions. I might just explode.

Jonah! It’s Mrs. Whitmore calling as she runs awkwardly toward us, kicking up sand. She trips and would fall except for Jonah’s dad, who is right there by her side to catch her. Jonah, my baby! she cries.

Mother, Jonah says. Father, Jonah says.

She’s here now and on him, giving him more love and affection than I think I ever could. His dad is crying too, and neither of them have seen me yet. That’s fine. It’s a tender, familial moment. I won’t intrude.

Where were you? Mr. Whitmore asks. Are you all right?

All right, he says. So I guess he is.

We’ll have to speak with Jonah down at the station, Detective McCreary says.

Are you charging my son with a crime? Mr. Whitmore demands.

We just have a few, perhaps a thousand, questions for your son, Mr. Whitmore.

His mother and I would very much like to take him home.

Home, Jonah agrees.

An EMT asks if he is refusing medical care.

Are you all right, Jonah? asks his dad.

Yes, Dad. I’m all right, Jonah responds. He hasn’t shifted that ridiculous smile an inch.

Maybe you should go to the hospital, honey, says Mrs. Whitmore.

No hospital, he tells them, and at last his smile fades. Home.

Okay, then. Detective, my son will be in for questioning tomorrow morning with our attorney present. Thank you.

They stand him up and turn him toward the boardwalk. Each parent has an arm around him. At last, Mrs. Whitmore sees me.

Hello, Jennie. Come by the house tonight after dinner, dear. She then seems to recall that all this trouble may have been my fault. At the very least, she believes my ex-boyfriend beat up her son. Although, he doesn’t seem to have a scratch on him. Would that be all right with you, Jonah?

Jennie, he says, always smiling.

The Whitmore family walks past me. As they make their way up the beach, I have to wonder…

Am I really even that into him?

2

JONAH

I’ve fled the scene of my childhood home where an impostor in my clothes is moving in on my life. Charades? Really? Someone made of stronger stuff might have dealt with that whole situation, but it ain’t me. I’ve retreated to the safe comfort of the Atlantic.

On my back, I float on, seeking distractions.

The moon. Ahh. Just look at it. I’ve always been fascinated by the moon. To me, it’s this impossible to reach destination that’s both immensely enticing yet frustratingly out of reach.

We’ve been there before. Man. It took just one small step for one man, anyway. Mankind had to take a giant leap to get there. And then, for some cuckoo reason I’ll never be able to figure, we never leaped again. In light of what’s going to happen—the coming merlien influx—perhaps we should have.

Exploration is ingrained in our species’ DNA. We’ve always strived to branch out. For as long as we’ve been kicking around this mortal coil, we have sought unknown lands, created new opportunities, forged for prospects, conquered, colonized, settled, moved on. That’s just what we do, we humans. So why stop with Earth? Why stop at the moon?

When I think about the moon and the logistics involved in setting up cities there, how hard could it be? It’s like we planted our flag and then closed up shop for good. Is there nothing more the moon has to offer? I beg to differ. Because just look at it.

On my seventh birthday, my parents gifted me a telescope. I was still young and dumb enough to think it was a baseball bat by the shape of the wrapping. No doubt my dad was taken aback by my look of distaste when the odd, heavy metal tube rolled out and clunked to the floor, missing my toes by an inch. If Dad did register my disappointment, he kept quiet about it while setting the telescope on its hefty stand on the porch out back.

Most of the constellations you can see with the naked eye, he told me while screwing knobs and lenses. But with this, you can get up close and personal with the night sky. There’s an entire universe out there, Jonah. We’re such an insignificant part of it all. You’ll see.

There was a full moon on the night I turned seven. I’ll always remember how it shined dazzling white, with a barely noticeable silver aura around it. I imagined it hanging there by a lazy-eyed, puppeteer’s thread. The dreamy, youthful vision held my focus while Dad put the finishing touches on my gift and set its sights on Orion.

Do you see those three stars, Jonah? That cluster right there, you see? He crouched down and squeezed my shoulder. Though I couldn’t take my eye off the moon’s glow for some belt, I nodded anyway, like the dutiful son I sometimes aim to be.

Now, look through here, he said. So I did. And those three stars burned so brightly through the telescope, appearing as if I could reach out and touch them.

Thinking he wouldn’t notice, I tilted my present down and right a notch. The tip of it went up and left. There, before my very eyes, I beheld the bumpy, grotesque beauty of the lunar surface for the first time. I envisioned myself in Neil Armstrong’s heavy boots, kicking through moon dust in my own pretend historical moment as Earth’s greatest pioneer.

The moon is art. Everything about the night sky is a masterpiece, but the moon is the masterpiece’s centerpiece.

From here, floating wherever the tides take me, staring up into the great beyond, my spinning thoughts have too much nostalgia in them. I’m weak with the bad juju of jealousy and hurt. Seeing Other Me in my living room with Jennie and my parents set me back on this course into the wild, blue yonder. Waxing poetic about the moon won’t help my heart.

Get a hold of yourself, man!

I’m forestalling the inevitable with my lazy, wet wanderings. My impulsive decision to run back to the water was based on more than raw emotion, wasn’t it? Even as I was racing through the streets, the ocean spray licked my face. It’s an impossible thing for a person to feel from that distance. But it happened. The Atlantic pulled me back.

I know I’ve failed. I can hear Mezzy now: You had one job, Jonah! One!

Well, that’s easy for you to say, Mezzy. You’ve never been human and therefore haven’t had to fathom the burden of human fragility. But no, that’s not fair either. I shouldn’t presume to know what makes anybody tick, even if they are a species from… somewhere out there.

Maya rushed us out of Mercadia so fast, I had no time to process why she thought it so important for me to prepare the world for their arrival. The merliens are coming no matter what I say or do. What good is it going to do anyone, human or otherwise, to get a heads up?

Maya doesn’t know us. She doesn’t understand what humans are capable of. You’d think Mezzy might have given her more information about the cruelty of our species. I know the first mermaid I met has seen her share of ships passing in the night.