I bolted for my room; mind frantic at Gramps insistence that I get out of the house, now. The whole idea of a transition freaked me out. My heart pounded, thinking of Prescott showing up at my house. I grabbed handfuls of clothes from each drawer, stuffing mismatched socks, day-old t-shirts, ripped shorts, hair ties, and a tube of Chap Stick all into my tattered pale-pink book bag. I tucked a finger down my shirt and fished out the Atlas coin from my bra. I stuffed the coin into a neon green sock, then stuffed the hidden treasure in the farthest corner of my book bag.
I stopped, making a split-second decision to cross the hall into Gramps bedroom. Rummaging through his bedside table, I saw the glint of his old gun underneath some long-forgotten bills. I tucked the pistol into the back of my shorts, the cold handle of the gun pressing into my back made me feel semi-secure. If Prescott wanted me dead, I was going to give him a run for his money. A loaded gun and a few tricons would be more than enough to make his bad luck my winning edge.
Slinging my book bag over my shoulder, I made my way out to the living room where everyone waited for me.
“I’ll be back when I can,” I said, leaning down to give Gramps a brisk kiss across his forehead. “I’m sorry...I wish I could stay. Promise you’ll get better?”
“Don’t you worry ‘bout me. Get outta here, the sooner the better.” Gramps motioned towards the door, with a flick of his wrist.
“Ready?” Calvin asked.
“Yeah,” I shifted, feeling the gun dig into my back, happy that no matter what happened, I wouldn’t be caught unprepared like last time. I would not be backed into a corner and beat up ever again.
“Text me tonight. Okay?” Bree said, stepping forward. “I worry about you, especially now, knowing where you disappear off to...”
“Sure. You’ll swing by and check on him for me?” I asked, glancing over at Gramps who kept anxiously eying the window like Prescott would show up at any moment. I’d already felt like I’d lost him once, and couldn’t imagine it happening for real this time.
“Of course.”
“I don’t need no takin’ care of, ya hear? You’ll see me again. Now get goin.’” Gramps shot me a stern look that said, or else.
Bree muttered, “I’ll check on him.”
“Thanks.”
I wanted to say more, but I knew I’d just get caught up in long tearful goodbyes. Time wasn’t a luxury I could afford, so instead I left with a quick promise to be back as soon as I could. Gramps sorrowful look as I walked out the door, pressed into my memory.
“So,” I began, when Calvin and I were safely outside by his truck, “How do we, you know?” I motioned to my wire. Time wasn’t moving fast enough to get the thing off.
“First, I gotta find that cage.” Calvin dropped down to his knees, hands and face pressed against the mixture of dirt and sand in our front yard, fishing underneath the porch for something out of sight. “I know I put it around here somewhere...”
“Um... why did you put a cage under my house?”
“’Cause we need what’s inside.”
Before I could ask what the hell he was talking about, he pulled out a small black wire cage. I took a step back when he swung the cage in front of me like a prize. Two fat white rats stared straight at me, their beady red eyes twitching, tiny pink noses wriggling in the air. Round white bellies pressed against the metal, little claws hanging onto the edges. Totally disgusting.
“What the hell? Why in the world did you have rats under my house?” I stared at the mice in shock, trying my best to put on a girl-who-is-not-totally-grossed-out look on. The last thing I needed was Calvin thinking I was scared of a little rodent. One of the rats rolled over, exposing a black disk glowing green. All the little pieces fell together. It had to be Calvin’s wire.
“We bought them when you went on your swim. Can’t let you have all the fun.” He grinned a little wider on the right side. That crooked smile had a way of making my stomachs do flip-flops and I looked away. “Pretty cute, huh? We named them Armageddon and Clyde.” I shook my head. Cute was not exactly the name I would call them—disgusting, though, yeah that one fit. All I wanted to do was get far, far away from those pink nosed rodents. “Anyways, these little guys are the best way to throw off the GPS system.”
“But what about the—“
“I disconnected the audio before I left.” He pulled some green and red wires out of his coat pocket for proof. “All they have is GPS. And they won’t have that for long. Bree bought yours a toy. I think he likes it, look.”
I stepped closer, not much, just enough to look semi-interested. No way was I going to risk getting close to that lid. By the looks of the cheapo plastic topper, they could hop right out of there. And I’d seen the YouTube videos of jumping rats. It was part of the reason they gave me the heebie jeebies so bad. A rat jumping on me was definitely not on my agenda today. But, he was right. The rat did seem to like gnawing on the hot pink toy covered with half-chewed feathers. Probably came from the cat section. Sequins and stuffing littered one corner of the cage.
I kept a safe distance from the rodents, trying not to let Calvin see how much they freaked me out. “So which one is mine? Clyde or Armageddon?”
“Bree named yours Clyde. Said it was a good name for a rat.”
I rolled my eyes, knowing she named him after an ex of hers that spread nasty rumors after their breakup. “She got that right.”
“Here you’ll need this.” He pulled out the same insertion tube that his mom had used on me earlier. I eyed the clear tube in his hand. I was so not ready to go through mind-numbing pain again. Calvin placed the cage on the ground and pulled out Clyde. “Just press the top like a pen and it’ll come right out. Then I’ll transfer your wire over to him.” He petted the top of the mouse’s head, his tiny body wriggling madly in Calvin’s fingers.
I hesitated for a moment before taking the insertion tube from him, my hand trembling at the thought of the imminent pain. “Will it be as bad as the first time?”
“Nah. It’s bearable. You want me to do it for you?”
“I can manage.” I rolled up my shirt, placed the tube over my pulsating green wire, held my breath, and clicked the cap. A wave of chills spread through my body as the muscles under my arm contracted, then released. A burning sensation spread down my side, throbs of white-hot pain radiating down to my toes. Tears pulsed behind my eyes, and vaguely I could hear Calvin calling my name, his hand on my shoulder steadying me as the ache began to ebb.
“You okay?” he asked, a firm hand gripping my shoulder.
I blew out a long stream of air. “Yeah, I will be. Thanks.” I looked down at Clyde, now laying in his cage, the black wire now on his side, one tiny white foot twitching as he laid on his side. Poor little guy, I knew exactly what he was going through. “Now what do we do with them?”
“We’ll drive for a bit then release them. That’ll keep my parents searching for awhile.” He pulled out his phone and glanced at it, before powering it off. “But by the looks of things, my parents already know I’m helping you. C’mon, we need to get going.” He slung the rat cage in the back of the truck with a clunk. The cage landed next to a tattered tent, dirty cooler, and a rusted toolbox. We had all the basic gear to last a few nights in the woods.
I walked around and climbed in the cab of the truck. “So, where are we going exactly?”
“Upstate. Away from dad and away the ocean. Wait for the transition period to pass.” He cranked the key in the ignition and started towards the highway.
“So this transition. How long does it take?”
“Well once it’s begun, usually around a week or two. So we’ll just wait it out. Maybe swing by the Redwoods or Yosemite. After the two weeks are up and you haven’t sprouted tentacles, my dad won’t be able to deny that you chose the right side.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. The question that had been gnawing at my stomach came tumbling out. “Why are you doing this? I mean, going against your parents? Helping me? If you’re not careful, they’ll want you dead next.”
“Because you aren’t becoming Sirenean. You’re on the right side. You always have been.”
My stomach lurched a little. He didn’t know what I’d chosen. He was being stupidly hopeful. And maybe I was being just as stupid for thinking he could help, for thinking I could figure out a way to have both land and sea. From where I stood, I was completely torn. “Right side? What does that even mean?” My eyes fell to my markings. If only I could see things in black and white, right and wrong, good and bad. But no, I felt like I was drowning in a vast sea of gray. My whole world was just one huge confusing mess, sucking me in like quicksand.
“It means that Sireneans kill humans. They’re the bad guys. You went into the ocean and you came back. You’re with us...” His voice cracked a little at the end. A few tense moments passed with no words. “You are with us aren’t you?”
“It’s just that...they’re not the monsters you think they are. They’re not all the same.”
“They feed off of human fear. You can’t tell me that’s not bad, not wrong. You’re not actually thinking about joining them? Are you?”
“I don’t know,” I said, barely audible over Bruce Springsteen’s song Born to Run blasting on the radio. “When I’m with the Sireneans, I’m convinced I want to stay. And when I’m here, it doesn’t seem so bad either. I want both. I just wish I didn’t have to choose.”
Calvin cranked the song. “Then don’t. Just stay here.” He drummed his thumbs against the wheel, belting out the lyrics. “Baby, we were born to run.”
“Like Springsteen, huh?”
“Love him.”
I couldn’t help but smile, the song was a perfect fit for how I felt, trying to escape fate. I shifted, turning towards him, my leg brushing against the torn leather of the seat. “Wanna know a secret?”
“What?” He tilted his head toward me and took a sip from his Gatorade bottle.
“Deep down, I don’t think I really have a choice about this whole transition or whatever it’s called. It’s like it’s been decided already. Like predestination or whatever. Crazy, huh?” I laughed, letting my unease out.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s not all that crazy. To believe in fate or destiny or whatever. I’m supposed to be the next greatest Sirenean hunter. But I say, screw ‘em. The ones who say we’ve gotta do this or that. Let’s write our own rules, Kova. What do you say?”
I held up my water bottle, mock toasting him. “To writing our own rules.”
“Hell yeah.” He tapped his Gatorade bottle against mine and took a deep drink.
I gulped and turned away from him again, biting my thumbnail. I wanted to believe him, but the uncanny feeling of being rapidly pulled forward overcame me, like riding a rollercoaster with no idea when the drop was coming.
“You know, I don’t even know when the transition or whatever is coming. They said I won’t know my choice until the time comes...whatever that means.”
“There’ll be signs. Transitions haven’t been documented a lot, but symptoms are the same.”
“Oh no, am I going to start puking everywhere?”
“Nah, nothing like that. Increased irritation, prone to lying, rash decision making, and they always disappear to the sea.” He pulled over to the side of the road, the car parked along a bend in the road. My interest piqued at whoever had been documented before me. “C’mon let’s take a break from all this serious talk. We gotta release our rodents.”
We both got out of the truck, gravel crunching under our feet as Calvin fished our mice out of their small wire cage from the bed of the truck; the pink toy now obliterated in a mass of half chewed stuffing and tufts of feathers.
He sat the rodents down on a grassy hill that led to a forested area. We watched as they scurried off after one another. I leaned against the tailgate of the truck. “Do you know who else has been documented? The ones who have been through the transition before me?”
“Oh, they’re just a few nutcases with wild stories. Hardly worth mentioning.” He leaned against the tailgate too, crossing his arms as a cool breeze blew past us.
“No, tell me. Maybe they weren’t just a bunch of wild stories.”
“I don’t know really. I just heard the stories in passing; my parents talked about them like they were all jokes. Dad called them old hippies who believed in Roswell and UFOs and crop circles created by aliens. That they’d been stoned out of their minds half their lives. They had no credit.”
“So what if they’re stoned hippies? Doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’ve got some pretty crazy stories of my own.”
“Okay, one woman my dad always mentioned claimed she became Sirenean and changed back to human because she hated the life underwater. I mean, that’s unheard of, going back and forth. No one ever believed her. She also claims she saw an angel in Brazil back in 1999.”
“Is she alive?”
Calvin gave me a worried glance as the sun started to dip below the horizon. “I assume so. She’s some hippie up in Portland.”
“Can we find her? You remember her name?”
“Whoa, slow down.” He gave a small laugh and looked at me, my solemn face bringing him back. “You’re serious? You really want to find her?”
“Maybe she can shed some light on this whole transition thing. Besides, all we have is time. What else were we going to do?”
“I don’t know, lay low, and try not to get you killed by my dad. Go on a date to the movies, maybe?” He gave me a hopeful glance as he scratched the back of his neck.
I laughed. “A date? You wanna go on a date with the girl your dad is trying to kill?” I shook my head, but felt blush creeping up my neck.
“You know how much I love to piss my dad off. Plus, the girl’s pretty cute.” He said, his own cheeks flaming red a little.
“Fine. I’ll go on a date with you in Portland. But first, we find this woman.”
Calvin smiled. “It’s a road trip then.”
The easy closeness of his body next to mine made my stomach swim. The warm negative space between us sent tingles up and down my arms. Even though I knew I shouldn’t be, I felt myself falling for him. When I was with him, it was like fate didn’t own me. Destiny be damned. And if I was to become Sirenean, I wanted my last few days on land to be with someone like him—someone who believed I had a choice, even if I never really did.
***
Blood everywhere, a cruel smile twisted across my face as crimson rivulets dripped down my neck, splattered on the white wall, my shirt soaked in its warmth. The stench of iron hung in the air, filling my lungs, the taste of metallic saltiness weighed heavy in my mouth and seeped down my throat. A body on the ground, a mass of red hair, Prescott’s dead body lying in front of me. The gun hung like a dead weight in my hand. Joy pulsated through my body, complete elation, as frissons of pleasure spread throughout my limbs. And the shadow in the corner, cheering me on.
Laughter rippled past my lips, waking me up, my body humming from the kill in the dream. Horror slowly replaced my joy, as pieces of the dream flashed in front of me like Polaroid pictures playing across my eyelids. The taste of blood lingered in my mouth. I bit the inside of my cheek.
The same dream kept haunting me for the past two nights on the road. We had slept in the truck, tucked under blankets and jackets in different dimly lit parking lots on our way up the west coast, our bodies tucked at odd angles, propping ourselves against the windows for support.
My body ached from the lack of sleep, from the haunting nightmares that left my heart hammering against my ribcage, wanting to get free. This time I smiled as I shot him, loving the kill, anticipating the pleasure that would spread through me like a drug. Laughing, like some lunatic, at the rush. Days ago, when the dream began, I had dumped the gun at a rest stop, thinking that it had triggered the deluded nightmares. But the nightmares continued, only growing more realistic as time wore on.
God, what was wrong with me? My hand flung up to my face, coated in cold sweat. My markings vibrated against me, humming with the kill.
Calvin stirred next to me. “Are you okay?” he asked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
“Yeah...just a nightmare.”
“But you were laughing.”
“Don’t ask,” I said, still trying to calm my racing heart.
“You always have them?” He sat up a little, wiping sleep from his eyes.
“No, it’s new.” I tucked a piece of sweat soaked hair behind my ear. “I can taste things,” I said more to myself than to him, taking a swig from my water bottle.
“What do you mean?”
“Blood.” I didn’t want to scare him, but I needed to talk. “It was everywhere.”
“You didn’t kill someone did you?” He teased, but the words hit too close to home.
“No,” I lied, keeping my eyes down, knowing he would ask me who it was next. “I mean, I don’t think so. It’s more like I’m drowning...but I like everything about it. Like a backwards nightmare.”
“A backwards nightmare?” He shifted in his seat, the leather seat screeching a little under his weight.
“Yeah, you know, when waking up is scarier than sleeping. During the dream I love it, but then I wake up and realize how freaky it all was it’s terrible.”
“Lucky for you, it’s just a dream.” He gave me a tired smile and pulled his jacket tighter around him. “You should try and get some more shut eye.”
“I’d rather stay awake.” I glanced at the clock, 4:47 a.m. My body screamed for more sleep, but I didn’t want to risk another night terror. “How far away are we from Portland?”
“We’ve been driving for about two days... so we should be able to get there tomorrow if we pull another all-nighter.”
“Good, we need to find your crazy hippie woman. A.S.A.P.”
“And what happens if we can’t? What if she’s not in Portland?” His voice was thick with sleep, gravelly and full of doubt. “She was just some off handed comment my dad made.”
“She’ll be there.” I clenched my jaw, flicking my eyes over to him, needing him to understand. “She has to be there.”
“Holy shit, Kova. Do your eyes always do that when you wake up?” He sat up a little, startled.
“What are you talking about? You don’t look so hot yourself in the morning,” I said, offended and brushing hair off of my face.
“No, your eyes are crazy blue right now and your pupils are freakin’ huge. Are you okay? Maybe the dream was a seizure or something...”
I pulled the visor down, checking myself in the dusty mirror. My eyes were a rim of crystal clear blue with a huge inky dot in the middle. They looked like I had just climbed out of the ocean. I rubbed the last of the sleep out of my eyes, scooted my seat up, and scanned the parking lot. Even though it was dusk, I could easily make out two McDonald’s bags falling out of trash bin, a Mountain Dew can crushed and skittering across the ground, and a couple semis with sleeping truckers inside. My vision was enhanced to say the least.
Then, under one flickering parking lot light, a shadow darted towards our truck. I scanned the sky; there was no reason for that shadow. Besides, no shadow moved that fast. A lump formed in my throat, remembering Gramps words. The shadow makes you change your mind.
Panic welled up in me, a cold chill running the length of my spine, despite the warm arm blowing out of the vents. I pulled at my shirtsleeves, glancing at my markings. The vibrant turquoise lines were faded to a baby blue color, like dull chalk smeared across my skin. The change had to be linked to the transition. Why else would Gramps have been so preoccupied with my markings when I found him on the beach?
“Your arms okay?” he asked, looking at my forearms, the faded curved lines barely visible in the dark cab of the truck.
“What’s happening to me? My eyes shouldn’t look like this...and my markings are disappearing. It’s like I just went in the ocean, but that’s impossible.” Fear clawed at my belly, changes weren’t supposed to happen outside of the sea.
“I...I don’t know. It sounds like you’re transitioning. But, you said you were staying on land. That you’re with us. Right?”
“I never said that.”
“You’ve chosen them?” Horror crossed his face in one swift dark shadow, and he instinctively pulled away, like he no longer recognized me.
“What are you talking about? I haven’t chosen any side. Don’t you get it? I don’t know what’s happening!” I paused, reaching for my book bag and digging out my phone. I started to dial the house line, needing to hear Gramps’ reassuring voice, ask his advice, hear that all the strange happenings were normal.
“No.” He reached out to stop me. “It’s not safe. My parents probably tapped your phone, hoping you’ll make contact with someone. They’ve been blowing up my phone the past few days. My voicemail and texts are maxed out.”
“Damnit!” I threw my phone against the ground, rage coursing through my veins, blood rushing to my cheeks. More irritable than normal? Check. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, not wanting to fall into the category of rash decision making too. “Something is happening to me. I...I need help.”
Calvin hesitated a moment, something that resembled fear crossing his face before disappearing in an instant. “We’re going to stop this.” He put the truck in drive, staring ahead, resolute.
“How?” The truck took off, screeching out of the parking lot. We sped towards the highway, the road stretching on for miles, barren and lifeless save for a few truckers and late-shift workers finding their way home.
“Like you said, we’ll find that woman. Besides, you can’t fully transition without the ocean.” He said the last part quietly, like he was trying to convince himself it was true.
And with those few words, something resembling hope sprouted in my chest, taking root deep within my ribcage. I wanted to lose myself in his resoluteness. Feeding off of fear was not my destiny, being condemned to the water was not my fate, unless I chose it.
But as we sped past cars in a whir of morning fog and headlights, I couldn’t help feeling like we were just two kids, trying to outrun the inevitable.
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