The only semblance of time was the stars twinkling above. Neil had been true to his word and left a trove of clean clothes and various tools for spending the night on the island hidden under a pile of rocks.
Helen was gently blowing the smoking tinder on the dark sand. Beside her, Craig was quiet, and had been quiet for a long time. He seemed to be lost in thought as he lay there on his stomach, head resting on his folded arms and looking out onto the black waters breaking on the beach. The sea lulled and swayed and offered a small solace of sound.
The tinder took, and a small explosion of fire sparked and grabbed the dry twigs, hungry for fuel. A crackle as the wood popped caught Craig's attention, and he watched the growing glow of the fire.
"Do you think they'll find us with that fire going?" he said, looking almost dumbstruck at the embers that danced up into the air.
"Hopefully not, as long as Neil holds up his end of the bargain."
"Neil? What's he got to do with this?"
"He organized this whole thing. Told me where you would be."
Craig plopped his chin back onto his folded forearms. "I guess he feels he owes me."
"Yeah. About that." Helen lay down beside him, stroking his back with her finger and he blushed as the goosebumps raised on his skin. "How did you end up in that tank?"
Craig exhaled deeply. "I suppose I ought to tell you, hadn't I?" He turned onto his side and embraced her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
*****
Professor Jack Hines watched the twinkling waters as the sun rose from the horizon. Reds and pinks bled from the waters and mixed with the deepening blue higher in the sky. To Hines, this was the best time of day: it was quiet, peaceful, void of people. Only the soft sound of high tide lapped at his bare feet as he walked in the surf. But there was something else, something not usually heard on his daily dawn walk.
Mewling carried by the wind was almost being drowned out by the ocean. He blinked. Perhaps in his old age he was starting to hear things: he'd never married or had children, instead dedicating his life delving into the nautical history of the British Isles. Stories of mysterious noises from the sea were always a hot talking point among sailors, leading to the myths of what may live beyond the waves. Those kinds of stories were something of a guilty pleasure to Hines, more so than ship itineraries or how plagues managed to find themselves in a flea-ridden blanket and entire crews would be wiped from the face of the Earth in a matter of days.
The squalling continued, so much so that Hines was worried it wasn't in his head at all. It was coming from the rock pools close to the sheer crags of rock, and he took a tentative step towards them. As he did, the crying got louder. Young crying. Hines looked around the large boulder.
Cradled in a rock pool was a babe. Barely a newborn, it squirmed and writhed in the water. But a naked baby straddled over a rockpool was not the most extraordinary thing about it. The child had no legs, only a smooth, dolphin-like tail flopped and splashed the still water that surrounded it. Compared to the baby's pudgy arms, it looked more than a little peculiar. The thing's face was bright red from crying so much, and Hines knelt to its level.
It didn't stop crying: if anything, it noticed Hines and cried even louder. He shushed it gently, but to no avail. With people bound to be coming to the beach soon, Hines was suddenly in a rather deep quandary. Did he take the baby? Should he? He couldn't leave a crying, defenceless child stranded in a rock pool. Hines made a decision.
He removed his jacket, picking up the baby with one hand and wrapping it in the heavy fabric with the other. He shushed it a little awkwardly and trudged back up the sand bank. His suspicions had been accurate, as already a few beachcombers were coming down from the West side. Hines carried the babe back to his car.
*****
The child had finally calmed, and splashed its tail as it giggled in shallow water of the bathtub. Hines sat with one hand on his forehead and the other trying to steady himself on the side of the tub. A baby. A goddamn baby he couldn't exactly hand over to the state services. Not to mention, he was turning sixty this year, quite long in the tooth to be taking on the responsibilities of a baby with a tail instead of legs.
*****
And yet, the day never came when Hines got bored of the boy's company as he grew. Somewhat restricted by the bathtub, Hines moved him to his downstairs pool when he was five, which gave the child a new lease in life. He called the boy Craig, after the crags of rock he'd found him by.
Hines' house by the sea was old and quiet, and not exactly the place for a young child. It was big, for sure, and it made Hines smile to see the boy splash and leap in the pool. It was here that Craig learned all he knew: how to speak, how to write, even a few words of sign language. Limited mobility aside, Hines looked forward to spending his upcoming retirement with him.
But inexplicably, shortly after his sixty ninth birthday, Hines became distant and withdrawn, something not unnoticed by the nine year old Craig.
"What's wrong, dad?" He swam to the edge of the pool, his hair in desperate need of a cut and it was well over his ears. Hines smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. Seeing those wide eyes staring back at him, he couldn't bear it much longer.
"I'm thinking, son. Your birthday's next week, isn't it?"
"On Sunday! Did you forget?" He grinned and leaned his chin on his forearms. "But...you're okay, right?"
*****
"What are you doing? Don't let me go!"
Hines was hanging over the side of his boat, his wrist in the fierce grip of Craig. Both were crying, and Craig begged through his tears. "Dad, Please! Don't do this."
"You've a better chance in the ocean than anywhere else. This is where you belong!"
"I belong with you! There's nowhere else for me! Dad!"
His pleas went unheard, and as his father peeled his fingers from his wrist to turn around and hobble back towards the steering wheel of his boat, Craig fell hard into the icy water. It hit like a sledgehammer, robbing him of any breath he had left in his lungs. He resurfaced as quickly as he could but it was fruitless: the last thing he saw was the back of the boat speeding away.
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Thirty Nine Minutes (COMPLETE)
الخيال (فانتازيا)Helen Newman had beaten hundreds of other candidates, and signed dozens of NDAs for the chance to work here. Now, finally, she takes her first step into the basement of the government building. In her wildest dreams, she never thought she would be a...
