Mercadia Forever: Mermaids and Merliens, #4

By Shaka Bry

The final novel in the Mermaids and Merliens series.

Mercadia is void. Earth is next. Long live Mercadia.

 

Magic and madness arrive in full force at the Jersey Shore. Humans are transforming, the government is capturing and experimenting on anything with a tail, and Jonah and Mezzy are caught in a complicated net of flourishing romance and floundering loyalties.

 

Having narrowly survived their home world's apocalypse, displaced mermaids are no longer wandering spectators in their own story. Out of the ocean, they march up the coast, casting deadly sorcery and leaving chaos in their wake. In the end, there may not be any land or sea remaining for anyone.

 

The line between human and merlien is thinning. Choose a side and swim on. For Earth or for Mercadia.

 

Forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryon Cahill
• Release date: May 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201737153

Book preview

PART ONE

CHAPTER 1 - CATARINA

EVERY SWIMMER IN the water’s gone berserk.

When the screaming began, I was half-convinced I’d spotted a shark fin thrashing through a slow-growing pool of blood. But sharks rarely venture this close to shore (not in Jersey anyway), and they certainly don’t attack humans. Nothing’s ever as exciting in real life as it is in the movies. No one ever really needs a bigger boat.

Chair Two to Chair Four. What’s happening over there? Jesse’s disembodied voice over the radio might as well be broadcasting from another world.

The people (mostly women of the meeker variety) are all riled up over something horrific. They haul ass out of the water, dragging their kids behind, if they have them.

On the beach near my lifeguard stand, I hear the word mermaid murmured more than once. The insane spreading, chaotic word-infection makes the fantasy sound less like nonsense and more like shared delusion.

I climb down, and immediately the crowd in front clears. I’m presented with what all the fuss is about: a hulk of a fellow, striding forth with his ample chest and farcically elephantine endowment is wading up and onto shore.

I think I laugh. I must be laughing. It’s the only plausible knee-jerk reaction to witnessing such an absurd specimen in all his glory. It isn’t until I notice the He-Beast has a kid with him that things turn scary.

The boy is also naked.

What in the world?

This is way beyond my pay grade. I raise the walkie talkie to ask Jesse for help (or maybe a strait jacket) when five angry men attack the nude dude.

Catarina, what’s going on over there? Jesse’s voice again. I should answer.

I need everyone over here. Now! I tell the walkie talkie. They’re beating up this naked guy. And he’s got a naked kid with him, and—

Squelch, static, disbelief, noise.

And what, Cat?

People are saying they saw mermaids. I assert this statement as a mockery. Because it can’t be. I must have heard the word all wrong. There are no mythical creatures in the sea, just this beefy nudist and his son. Or at least I hope it’s his son.

Not mermaids. Merliens, he-who-thinks-he’s-Mr. Wonderful sputters. He’s turned the tables and rolled away from the assault. His attackers lick their own wounds. The naked man’s fought them off with ease and bloodied a couple of them pretty good. Faces in the crowd are lit with horror, but their phones, of course, capture the entire scene.

What’s that? the naked kid asks, pointing. I turn to see about a dozen black vans driving on to the beach from the 14th Street emergency vehicle ramp entrance. The dark automobiles move slowly and uncoordinated in the thick sand, though they are persistent and menacing in their numbers.

I take a step back. Another. Beachgoers look to me, desperate for answers. Helplessness plagues their eyes. They only wanted to enjoy this beautiful summer day with their families.

What’s with all this indecent exposure, mortal combat, and the stealthy, men in black-style war caravan, Lady Lifeguard?

I don’t know! How am I supposed to answer?

I’ll— I’ll what? Convince whoever is in charge that this is all just a silly misunderstanding? I’ll be right back, is what I settle on, and hightail it down the beach, not sticking around to suffer more panic.

Naked people and a militia of dark vans don’t just materialize every day. The two anomalies must be connected. It crosses my mind that the man and boy who emerged from the sea could, in fact, be mermaids. Or mermen or whatever. Sure, why not? Once out of the ocean, they lose their tails and change into human form, right? Isn’t that the folklore?

Oh my God, what nonsense am I thinking?

The run to Jesse’s chair is only about a thousand yards, and it really shouldn’t be taking this long. If mermaids do exist, then I might also be experiencing Time out of time, in slow motion maybe. Or backwards. I feel like I’m living a bad B movie in reverse. Is the beach turning to quicksand beneath my feet? Gah!

At long last, I’m perched (and parched) in front of Chair Two. My breaths are short and pained, as if I’ve just run the fastest thousand yard dash of my life. And maybe I have. What’s even more astounding is that my backpack’s slung over my right shoulder. I don’t even remember grabbing it. My autopilot mode, apparently, is fierce. Go me.

The unmistakable shooming zoom of jet fighters tearing across the sky draws my attention away from the suits pouring out of the first stopped vehicles. Jesse blow-blasts his whistle and yells for the few swimmers who haven’t already evacuated his scope of responsibility to Get the hell out of the water!

He jumps down from his chair, gives the vans a cursory glance, then runs his fingers through his silky, black hair.

You’re not going to believe this, Jesse says.

You can top a naked guy, a nondescript military action on public property, three jets, and mermaid sightings?

Angel just texted me a pic of… I don’t even know what to call it. It looks like some kind of crab monster out at sea.

What?!

Here, look. He shoves his phone in my face. There, just as he described, is a grainy picture of a television report. It sure looks like a crab monster. And here I was worried a measly ol’ shark might be on the prowl.

Yeah okay, you win. I give him back his phone. I guess that explains the Feds. If that’s who they are. I nod my head toward the vans. More and more are piling onto the beach. And more are heading our way.

Jesse and I face the calm Atlantic. I squint, but there’s nothing to see but horizon out on the horizon. Wherever that crab monster is, we’re safe where we stand.

I can’t believe my own thoughts.

He says he talked to Jonah, Jesse says.

Jonah? I repeat, confused. What about him?

"Angel. He texted again. He says he talked to Jonah. And I quote, Jonah wants us to drive to the Barrens. Meet him at his family’s cabin."

What? Why?

That’s all I got. You want to read it? He shakes his phone near my face again. I slap his hand away. If he does it one more time, I swear I’ll snatch it away and chuck it in the ocean.

I’m not going to Jonah’s cabin in the Pine Barrens. That’s stupid.

Yeah, me neither, Jesse agrees. His phone dings. He reads another text. It’s my mom. I gotta get home. Lela’s freaking out.

Jesse packs his stuff in a flash, and there’s something stuck in my throat. It’s Lela, Jesse’s kid sister, that’s gotten to me. She’s only four, and I swear she’s the sweetest thing in the whole wide world. How could there be a crab monster tearing up the ocean when perfect, innocent Lela exists? How can those two things occupy the same space in my brain?

And then, the overdue thought of another unblemished beauty nails me to the worry post.

Beth, I whisper. And immediately I have to talk to her. I unzip my bag and dig out my phone. In a harried effort to fast-scroll to find my girlfriend’s name, my dumb thumb hits the power button on the side.

Jesse’s apologizing, saying he has to run. He says I should do the same. Get out of here, Cat. I’ve got a bad feeling the beach is going to be on federal lockdown any minute.

I wave him off, and he goes, leaving me as I frantically fidget with my phone to get it back up and running.

HELP! HELLLP! The choked distress call is coming from the water. Beth will have to wait. I’m still on duty here, and now, with Jesse gone, these people are my responsibility.

But where did it come from? I can’t see—

I spot her. My superhero instincts kick in, and I grab the tube by Jesse’s chair. My phone, bag, and all the events of the past few minutes are forgotten; the only business at hand is the rescue.

I’m fast on land but even faster in the water. I splash fast until I can’t run anymore, dive in, kick, and swim out to where I last saw the distressed face among the waves. I’m so pumped with adrenaline that I can’t feel my legs. I know I shouldn’t be exhilarated in this moment, but my heart is beating a thousand beats per second, and Time itself once again has no meaning.

Where’d she go?

Merrrrrrliennnnnns. The tidal pull pushes the odd word into my ear. I shake it off because it’s just too weird.

HELP! PLEASE!

There she is. I kick with my entire body and, though there’s something peculiar about the sensation, what’s more curious is that I’m propelled to my drowning victim faster than should be possible.

I’m suddenly literally on top of her, and she’s shouting in my ear.

We’re mermaids! she yells, entirely devoid of her sanity. MERMAIDS!!

Miss, please. I try to reason with her. Remain calm. You’re going to be all right. You’re—

I stop because she’s sunk. Underwater, she flips an expert somersault and splashes out, revealing a bright orange and green spotted tail.

She surfaces, screaming.

I would try to settle her, but I’m super unsettled myself. In fact, I might be hyperventilating. Am I? I can’t tell. But I do know I’m consciously prolonging an inevitable truth: my lower half’s been severely altered.

I don’t want to look. I won’t look. I can’t.

But I have to.

I bend forward and take a steely eyed peek below the surface. Where, oh where did my little Cat go? Oh where, oh where could she be?

One never knows which way their emotional and/or rational state is going to turn in times of crisis. I think I’m handling this insane, radical transformation rather well, considering.

Other swimmers out here that I hadn’t noticed before are also coming to terms with their newfound mer-bodies. It’s funny, you’d think the magical change would freak more people out—like this woman I came out to save. She’s beyond the Beyond, well and far gone, singing Sinatra in falsetto in-between unhealthy gulps of obscene amounts of seawater. Mostly though, my fellow fish freaks are literally testing the limits of their new abilities.

I can’t! I just can’t! My would-be rescue lays off Ol’ Blue Eyes and slurping the salty sea to return to her regularly schedule panic attack. She speeds with all strength to the shore where—

Oh my God, I let slip. The black spider vans have totally taken over the beach. Goons in black suits speckle the sands like so many concealed stars on a cloudy night. If they are, in fact, government officials, they’re acting with extreme prejudice, scooping up every last human-turned-mermaid who finds their way back to their domain. At first, the goons act as if they’re helping. But it soon becomes very clear to all the naked wanderers that they’re being rounded up and thrown into the backs of all the vans!

Speaking of naked…

Shit. My bathing suit’s missing from my belly button down. I really need to be more self-aware.

The woman I came out here for has drifted, or purposefully swam away from me, toward the ominous government threat. Hey! I holler. But she’s too far gone to hear. Hey, stay in the water! But it’s too late. She’s dragged out by her arm and thrown in to unknown peril with the rest of them. I have to wonder, are the wrangling goons even FBI? Or are they imposters?

One of them, a chiseled-jaw type wearing dark sunglasses (aren’t they all?) spots my bobbing head. He points one menacing finger right at me and calls, You! Come in! I promise I won’t hurt you.

Yeah right. Get bent, jerk. Better yet, come and get me.

Just as I think I might pass out from the sheer excitement and impossibility of everything that’s happened, what I can only describe as some kind of force field bubble materializes on the beach. It originates where I began this journey, right over Chair Four. The shield-like dome expands just enough to push off nearby intruders. Though the goons try, none of them can penetrate its power. No one can get in.

So who’s on the inside, controlling it? I ask the undertow. It answers with a gentle tug. This is fine. I’m okay with it. I’m under no presumption I can survive out here, alone in the ocean for long. Though something strong and true within me wants to try. I’m not sure if that has to do with my recent change or if it’s always been there. Frankly, it doesn’t really matter, because I’m not going anywhere near those kidnapping bastards.

The tide pulls me out a little further, and I let it. A man and woman float nearby. Their faces resemble what I can only assume mine must look like. The woman holds a hand to her mouth, and the man consoles her.

Let’s just wait here until the madness dies down, he tells her. I’m not so sure it will.

You guys all right? I say, flipping over to meet them. I mean, putting aside the obvious?

I think she’s in shock, the newly transformed merman says.

I’m not in shock, Gerald! the woman argues, then turns to me. I’m terrified. What is happening to us? Are you the lifeguard? Are you a mermaid now, too?

Look, let’s all just relax for a second and— My thoughts are not allowed to percolate. Instead, my brain is busy processing the sight of an electric woman, or mermaid in a human disguise, on the beach. Her arms are outstretched in the middle of the magic dome, as if controlling the bubble’s formation. The force field extends, as if by her will. It pushes the goons into a retreat. But not before they aimlessly aim their guns and fire worthless rounds into the growing foe. Their bullets do nothing. They don’t even bounce off the shield. It’s as if the magical sorcery absorbs their energy, gulping the inexcusable firepower and liking the taste.

Realizing they are helpless against this new entity, the goons retreat from it. Soon though, the fast-moving bubble catches up with them, lifting them off the ground and tossing them aside as if they were each a disenchanted child’s discarded plaything.

Screw this, the woman beside me says, fleeing the scene as the dome comes close. Her husband, too, swims off into deeper waters. Not knowing what to do, I kick out just far enough to be temporarily safe from the expanding sphere. As it seems to have slowed significantly, I change direction and head north, with the shoreline just barely within my view.

I’m blown away by how fast I’m able to cut through the waves. There is no way to describe the sensation. Having suffered a gorgeous body mutation, I know I should be scared out of my wits; but the possibilities of this impressive, sublime form currently outweigh my hefty concerns.

And yet, I certainly don’t want this to be permanent. I must test the non-waters.

I surface and dare a look back. The force field has halted. I give it a moment, almost daring the thing to come closer, but it stays put, as if solidifying its final residence in the sands. That’s enough for me.

I split fast for the beach, and I’m there in an instant, riding a decent wave in for the home stretch. At once surprised and relieved to find my proper lower half returned to me, I don’t even care that I’m bottomless. My bright red Seaport Lifeguard Patrol bathing suit’s been torn off at the middle, right where my hips conjoined and (uh) tail-ified.

The beach has been expertly cleared of all civilians, and the many goons are preoccupied. No one sees me coming, and for that I am thankful. Mid-run, I snatch someone’s abandoned, oversized fluffy towel off a Tommy Bahama beach chair and use it to cover myself.

It isn’t until I reach the boardwalk when I realize I don’t know where I’m going. I can’t get back to my car. The damn bubble’s in the way. Even if I could get through that sheen, I’m positive I don’t want to. Also, how far does the thing go in other directions? Has it pushed its way into town?

People here are losing it. Families are grabbing their children and making a break for their cars. Some, but few, are nude from the waist down. It makes me wonder just how many others have chosen the Sea Siren’s call over the comfortable predictability of land.

Get outta the way!

I don’t see who knocked me to the ground. By the time I’m sturdy on my feet again, the bitch has mixed into the scattered, terrified crowd gawking at the raw, unearthly power the shield radiates.

I have to be careful. This is bad. Societal norms are unhinging. And it’s only going to get worse.

Slowly, trying to act casual and unassuming, I venture into the parking lot. I sidestep away from everyone as best I can, and soon I’m out on the street.

A familiar, dark green van is coming at me, too fast. It screeches to a stop on the opposite side of the road, and the passenger side door flies open.

Jesse, I say. It’s hard to imagine a time when I’ve ever been happier to see someone.

Get in, Cat! Without checking for other speeders, I cross the street in a hurry. I’m safe and sound inside Jesse’s van, and before I can even close the door, he’s peeling away.

How’d you get all the way out here so fast? he asks. But I’m crying. I don’t want to be. I never do. But the impossibility of everything that’s just happened—I can’t help it. It hit me all of a sudden.

Hey, he says, slowing to semi-respectable speed. It’s all right. He’s lying. Okay, well, it’s probably not. But what do you want me to say, you know?

He tries to put a soothing hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it away. Ten and two on the wheel, Jesse. It’s anarchy out there. Pure chaos. And it’s spreading. Please, just drop me at Beth’s.

My parents are in Europe this week. Jesse knows this. In fact, my house is still a godawful mess from the party I accidentally threw a couple nights ago. I’ve kind of been avoiding the massive cleanup and staying with Beth ever since.

She lives in Margate, right? Sorry, Cat. No can do. I’m not driving all the way out there. I gotta get home.

He swings a right onto Lindwood Street where a group of kids stand on the corner, shouting and crying at and with one another. I get the sense there’s a lot of that going on everywhere right about now.

I see Jesse’s phone sticking out of his pocket, and I grab it.

Hey! he says, but I’m already holding it up to his face for recognition. Don’t bother. There’s no service.

What?

I flip the phone around. Where the Wi-Fi/3G icon should be, there’s just a disparaging, hateful X.

Crap! I hurl my arm back to smash the phone against the dashboard, but then think better of it. Instead, I slide it gently into his middle console and cross my bare feet on the dash. At the sight of my faithful, sexy ankles below this obnoxiously thick and long stolen towel, I laugh the tears away.

What could possibly be funny now?

Merrrrrrliennnnnns. I hum, and flip my stems in tandem as if to mock my wavering sanity.

CHAPTER 2 - MEZZY

MAYA’S EYES. I can’t take my eyes off of Maya’s eyes. To say they are black would do a grave injustice to the non-color. Rather, her eyes are the essence of the absence of light. They are soulless, a perfect representation of Viviane’s. In fact, the mermaid queen’s got her predecessor’s wicked stare exactly right.

She stands from her bench atop the lifeguard chair, looking out upon the protective, translucent shield of her own making. A mad grin creeps onto her face as men in dark suits pour out of darker vehicles. A few of them raise their weapons, others follow.

What is this? Maya asks, innocently enough. That her first experience with humans pans out to be a trivial threat is the least of tragedies that could occur on this day. Are they pointing weapons at us, Mezmerelda? Is that what this is?

Yes, Queen Mother, I say, and she shoots me a correcting glance. I bow humbly before her, knowing intrinsically that this is exactly the dominance her worse half desires. Forgive me, Queen Maya. It’s an old habit I will now break.

But these humans are so tiny! She recovers, pointing at the service pistols in their hands. How do they expect to—

A trigger-happy novice fires off a round. We all flinch, but it turns out to be an unnecessary reaction. The bullet dings Maya’s force field. The bubble eats it up, then it smooths itself out, as if becoming all the stronger from the fresh ammo meal.

The offender curses his weapon, stunned by its ineffectiveness.

Back off, Maya warns. All of you. This is your one chance.

Screw this, says one, and unleashes the beginning of a hail of bullets on our encasement.

After exhausting their ammunition fruitlessly, the small army outside our protective dome ceases fire. Their Earth weapons are useless against Maya’s magic.

Suit yourself. She raises her arms. Her black eyes widen in their sockets. Her lashes flutter, and our surrounding dome moves. It shifts outward, slowly at first, then faster. In pursuit of those who would harm us, Maya’s magic bubble chases them away.

What are you doing? Petra speaks. If anyone would have sway here, it would be her brother. You’re only going to agitate them.

As a pre-dawn pigeon agitates the morning dove? I see no reason I should concern myself with this inferior species. Jonah? Can you illuminate the human mindset for us?

Where do I begin? Jonah says. If I know him as well as I think I do, he likely shouldn’t speak at all. But Maya has asked him a direct question. And from what I’ve seen, she likes him