Mermaid Pirate Dispatch

The realization that I was dead landed with the soft plunk of a tiny pebble in a vast sea of awareness. Claustrophobia seized my chest in the emptiness of the void around me. Images of my final moments whooshed by. Leather straps. Armed guards. A solemn doctor with a needle. The verdict, death by lethal injection, echoed in my mind.

I writhed in the dark, trying to twist free of the tight grip that ensnared me. In my mind the whole of my life lay spread out like an encyclopedic map of time and space. My continued consciousness was torture. I couldn’t run from myself, from the blood soaked pages I’d authored in the annals of humanity. Horror and guilt gripped me firmly and forced me to soak in every detail of my deeds.

I was wracked with disembodied pain that seared my soul. Without nerves to pass the signal around it was like suffering and agony were constantly building, unable to dissipate. Then, off in the distance a single star appeared in the vast blackness. It’s light was faint but beautiful, and it filled me with blessed sadness.

A deep, authoritative voice enveloped my existence. “The fruit of your actions, the reward for your deeds.”

Brilliant, tremendous agony engulfed me. I tried to weep, but without a body I could shed no tears.

“I shall soon withdraw my light,” the voice said. “For those in your state deserve no light. But there is yet one final choice for you to make. There is yet some good that you can perform.”

I tingle of hope burst and shimmered briefly in my chest. “Please,” I begged. “Anything but this.”

“Your actions left one particularly special orphan in the depths of treachery. She has a great work to perform in her life, but she will not make it to adulthood without special care and protection. Since you deprived her of a family, this is your chance to see that she is not also robbed of her destiny.”

Even without a body I could feel the icy flow of blood pumping furiously in my racing heart. “Escape from this prison of shame to…” I trailed off, lost in thought. “Watching over the child will fill me with sorrow and regret.” I cast my eyes down and away from the light.

“You cannot escape your fate, but you can ensure her success.”

I shivered. I knew what I had to do.

The rush of wind and clatter of rails overwhelmed my senses. I blinked and squinted against the dim lights of the rocking railcar. The musky stench of poverty and crime filled my nostrils. I took a deep breath and let my eyes adjust. I felt a bit of hot, sticky railing in my hand and gripped it tightly as my considerable weight shifted from one foot to the other with the train’s movements. It looked like a typical underground rail, complete with torn advertisements, half-cleaned graffiti, and stained floors. I looked down. It wasn’t my body. I was bulky. I flexed and felt powerful muscles surging beneath tight, rough skin.

I took another breath and looked around. There she was. I didn’t recognize her by her big, nervous eyes or by her messy, oily hair. I recognized her because there was a gentle glow about her. She stood out, and I was drawn to her. She was mine to protect. I knew that if anything bad happened to her at all my suffering would be perfect and eternal.

There weren’t many others in the car with us. An old lady with white hair and a red shawl. A young man in a worn suit that was a size or two too big for him. Then I saw the threat. A lanky man sat ahead of the girl and glanced back at her, licking his lizard lips. His eyes were full of lust and devoid of warmth. I filled my chest with the wretched air of the underground and took a step forward toward the girl.

The train brakes squealed to life, drowning out a chime. I couldn’t hear the stop announcement over the pounding in my head. The scrawny, sleezy man was getting up, moving toward the girl, and the contents of his heart filled me with rage. The girl began to stand, but she spotted the drooling maw of the other man. Her eyes went wide and she whimpered nervously.

I reached out and grabbed the man by the wrist. I could feel the two bones of his forearm flexing closer in my grip. He looked at me, full of rage. “She’s my daughter,” he sneered. “We’re getting off the train.”

I looked to the terrified girl and back at him. “No she’s not.” I growled. I yanked him back, clearing the way, and nodded at her. She briskly dashed out through the open doors and onto the platform.

The man tried to twist his arm free. “Stop,” he said. “You’re hurting me. I need to go.”

I stared at him and squeezed harder. He howled as one of the bent bones began to splinter.

The doors closed and the train began to pull away.

He looked up at me with wide eyes and opened his mouth.

I flexed my hand tighter and felt a bone give.

He screamed.

Blackness.

The tiny prick of light in the distance felt warmer than before. “Well done,” I heard.

I was awash in a gentle bath of redemption, but the thickness of my crimes still coated me with a sickening feeling of irreparable grime and sin. I wanted to speak, but instead I felt light headed. My ears popped, and I lazily opened my eyes to another blinding light.

My eyes finally adjusted and I found myself strapped into the seat of a passenger jet. The blue and white upholstered hardback seats were perched all around me like an orderly forest, each one cradling an idle human. A young child moaned and grumbled behind me. An impatient young father hissed beneath his breath. The gentle whine of the plane’s engines highlighted the low drone of the rest of the sounds of flight. It was comfortable to me. The air was sterile and light. Many of the window shades were pulled shut to keep the harsh sunlight from blinding the lucky few with window seats.

I looked around until I found the glowing passenger, my charge. She was a teenager now. She wore headphones and her head was down but I couldn’t see what she was doing. It didn’t matter. If I was here, there was a threat here as well. I sat up stiff and looked around. I was tall and broad again, but not the same as before. I wasn’t as muscular. I was just big. I shifted in my seat and accidentally bumped a man in a polo shirt next to me. He scowled and leaned away. I continued casting my gaze around, even looking back into the rear of the cabin, but I couldn’t see anything.

Then I heard it. One of the plane’s engines choked and sputtered. Then the dull thump of an explosion rocked the plane. All at once the oxygen masks dropped and bounced around, dangling while people frantically grabbed them. I heard shouting. I got to my feet and saw an armed man dressed in black wearing a balaclava over his head. He was yelling over the commotion.

Without thinking I flew out of my seat and rushed for the glowing girl. The man with the gun spotted me and raised his gun toward the ceiling. He fired it. “Everybody stay in your seats!”

I was in the aisle. To my left I was acutely aware of the girl’s trembling body, her hot tears, and her tight throat. Before me the man’s black eyes glared out at me through the fabric over his head and he pointed the gun at me.

The plane was going down. What was his plan? I didn’t have time to piece it together. I rushed at him.

He fired at me. I felt a bullet punch my left shoulder, whirling me around half a turn. I jumped at him and tackled him to the ground. The gun went off again and again. I wrestled it from his hands and managed to smash his face with my forehead in the process. By the time the gun was neutralized I had my hand around his throat, my elbow locked, and all my weight was crushing his windpipe.

Another man shouted. I looked up and saw the gunman had an accomplice. He held a grenade.

My heart was racing. He yelled something and pulled the pin, tossing it over my head. I turned and saw with horror that it landed right by the girl’s seat. I looked at her, back to the grenade, and down at the man with the gun. He wasn’t moving. The other man had retreated back toward the front of the plane.

I jumped up, ran to the grenade, and threw my body on it. The powerful blast lifted my bulky body off the ground and the shrapnel shredded my insides.

Blackness.

Silence.

The light shimmered gently in the distance. The long silence spoke volumes. I could have done better. “Did she live?” I asked.

Silence.

When I opened my eyes I was in a glass and steel office building. It was late. The sun was setting. I looked down. I was wearing a pretty nice suit. It wasn’t expensive, but it looked good enough on me. It had been tailored at least. I was at a conference table. At the head of the table a man wearing an expensive suit folded his arms and stared down a woman who stood off to the side next to a projector screen where the final slide of her presentation just said, “Questions.” The woman was glowing. She shifted her weight and I could feel the pain in the stub of her amputated leg. She was dressed smart in a business suit with a light, silky blouse. It didn’t fit her quite right, probably borrowed from a friend.

The man in the expensive suit stared at her through his thick but stylish glasses. A fashionable bit of stubble lined his harsh jaw and brutally stern cheeks. He blinked but didn’t waver. “No,” he said flatly.

The woman sucked in a gasp and quickly composed herself. She held her tongue.

The man leaned back in his chair and unfolded his arms, instead choosing to clasp them together on the polished mahogany desk. “You see, miss Pendleton. I run a business, not a charity. I understand your need for an initial investment, but you are not a good investment. A good investment has a proven track record, experience. You have…” he paused and his eyes rolled. “Spirit. I’ll give you that.”

The woman smiled, but I could tell she felt sick to her stomach. “Thank you,” she said. She glanced at me, her eyes full of suppressed distress. “I appreciate that you took the time to hear my proposal.”

The man smiled politely. “Mr. Jones will see you to the door,” he said, nodding to me.

I looked up at her and back to the business man. Her countenance fell. The glow wavered.

“Wait,” I said.

The man frowned at me.

The woman’s eyes lit up.

I stood and walked over to the man at the head of the table. I whispered in his ear. “I think miss Pendleton has a lot of promise. Someone took a chance on you once. Perhaps this is your chance to pay the favor back to the universe.”

He didn’t look at me. He just stared at the woman. I could feel steam rising from the melting ice encasing his heart.

I stood up straight and looked back at miss Pendleton, standing by the man’s side.

He took a long, deep breath, biting his lip. “One question,” he said. “If this doesn’t pan out as planned, what contingencies do you have in mind?”

She smiled. It was a beautiful, broad smile. A smile that could make any life, no matter how miserable, worth living.

“I actually have a few different ideas,” she began. “I’d be happy to go over them in detail with you. Each phase of the plan has contingencies built in that…”

Darkness.

Silence.

The star was still there. Still distant.

“Well done,” it said at last.

“Is it done?” I asked.

Somehow I knew that the star was smiling. “You’ve only just begun,” it said.

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