Sophie

I hurry after the others across the beach, hot sand splashing up into my sandals, burning against my toes like coals. Two of the rescue crew members are carrying a dolphin stretcher between them, while the other two hurry to do crowd control. Bill, our driver, is backing the van up towards where we need to work.

I'm normally pretty braced, used to the heart wrenching things a rescue can bring, but when I catch sight of our ocean victim, my heart stops. The reports were right. The creature in the surf couldn’t possibly be described as anything but a mermaid. As we approach, I take in the scene with a heavy heart. Limp and most likely unconscious, the humanoid girl’s body sways slightly as the waves beat against her back, pushing her into the sand, then pulling her back and doing it again. The sand and frothy brine around her no longer their proper colors, but a deep red. Time seems to slow as I take in her appearance. Long, sunny blonde hair pools midway down her ribcage, tanned skin covering her torso. Her features, slightly angular but still human looking, end at her hips where a long muscular limb takes over her lower half. Scales a shade darker than sand coat the tail, which ends in a pair of split fins*, one a vivid, sunset magenta, the other an aqua turquoise. The colors line up with the short bangs that frame her jaw. Jutting from her hips, are two massive, wing-like fins that are roughly the size of the length of her torso and almost as wide. They’re the same colors as her bangs and tailfins, but in a reversed order, giving her an almost patterned look. Her eyes are closed, leaving their color a mystery, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see those same magenta and turquoise shades.

I take a moment to observe her injuries. A lopsided and caved in hip is easy to identify as broken, possibly shattered given its crushed appearance. No bone has punctured through, but a massive hole in her abdomen is the clear source of the bleeding. Bruised and scraped; it doesn’t seem like there are any other visible severe injuries. Although, judging by her shaky, irregular, and downright odd breathing, I’ll guess at least one broken rib. I narrow my eyes and watch the rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing seems to be growing fainter by the second and it spurs me into motion as I realize that mere minutes could define life or death for her. I crouch down in the sand beside Lewis.

“How can I help?” I ask.

Lewis doesn’t look up as he answers. “Can you scoop away as much sand as possible in ten seconds from around the injured hip? We move in the wrong way and splinters of bone could stab internal organs so I want to get the stretcher under her if possible.”

I nod and comply with his request, focusing my mind on the rhythmic task of scraping sand away so I don’t have to think about how the sand isn’t soaked with water, but blood, or about the poor girl it’s coming from.

Once I’ve got a decent ditch in the sand, I’m lightly shoved out of the way as the woman from the rescue team takes over, easing the stretcher underneath the girl. She’s then carefully pulled the rest of the way on and the stretcher is lifted and placed on the floor of the back of the van.

“Alright, John, go help with crowd control, we’ll send the van back for you, but I need space to work. Sierra, go up front with Bill will you? Tell him to step on it on the way back,” Lewis orders, watching as the employees scurry off. “Soph, give me a hand here in the back?”

“Of course,” I agree, climbing in after him. “What do you need?” I pull the van doors shut and Lewis bangs a fist against the side of the van, an indicator that we’re good to go. I brace myself against the side as the vehicle lurches into motion and takes off down the road.

“We need to try and stanch the bleeding,” Lewis states. “That’s first priority. There’s no way of giving a blood transfusion to this… girl. If she loses too much, that’s it. Take some of those towels and try to keep pressure as much pressure on the wound as possible.”

“What about the bone?” I ask as I pull a pile off towels down off the bolted shelves. Tight fabric bands are strung between the poles to keep the contents from falling during sharp turns or sudden stops. “Weren’t you worried that it could puncture something if we move it?”

“We don’t have a choice but to take that risk. Just push down and try not to shift her hip at all.”

I nod and fold two of the towels over the room, and then I press them down as hard as I can. A tortured scream echoes through the van. The mermaid tenses up, her tail thrashing beneath me as I strain to hold her down. “Lewis!”

“I know, just keep the pressure on, no matter what,” Lewis replies as he sits on the tail, pinning it beneath him. “Man, this thing’s strong.”

I apply another towel as the first two begin to soak through. The girl continues to struggle beneath us and I know it’s causing blood to flow faster. “She needs to settle down. Can we give her a sedative?”

“I don’t know, her biology may reject it and that’s the last thing that she needs. Just keep pressure, we’ll be at the park soon and I’ll take over,” Lewis replies. He removes a pressure band from its stand and slides it up the girl’s arm, watching it inflate and taking note of the results. I press down on the mermaid’s abdomen once more. Another pained shriek leaves her and suddenly a pair of ice blue eyes are snapping open and fixing on me. The irises are laced with pure agony, but there is also strong flashes of anger and fear. She twists and groans, one wing-like hip fin snapping up and catching me across the chin.

“No,” she whimpers. “Get away, no!” I'm not given a chance to register my shock at her perfect English before she lashes out at me with a clenched fist. She hisses, revealing wicked long fangs. I recoil, narrowly dodge her punch, and watch as her eyes roll back and she slumps back, falling limp once more. I relax in time to see Lewis remove a needle from the girl’s arm.

“I didn’t want to use these in case her body reacted badly, but the more she moves, the faster she bleeds out. She would have been in trouble if she kept thrashing about like that, and she could have hurt you. I just hope that the sedative will work okay,” Lewis explains in an almost guilty voice.

“Lewis, it’s okay. This is going to be a difficult case and the stakes are high… However, I have to ask,” I hesitate before continuing, “are you qualified to handle this? Do you have the experience or equipment?”

“No,” Lewis admits. “This is way beyond me. This is the extreme; I'm in no way qualified or prepared to handle this.” He falls silent for a moment, before his eyes light up. “But I know who is. Look, I have to make a call to a colleague, just keep doing what you're doing, alright?”

“Okay.”

***

I pace outside the door to the rescue treatment room, pause to glance at my watch, then resume my pacing. It’s been over an two hours since Lewis disappeared inside with the mermaid, an hour and a half since his colleague arrived and disappeared as well, and I’ve been left here to pace and worry. This case has struck me pretty hard, probably because the girl looks to be around Katie’s age. I can’t stop replaying the look in her eyes, the raw agony, the fear… did my daughter see it coming? Did she feel any pain? I slump down onto one of the benches in the hall, rest my arms on my legs and bow my head. I certainly hope not. I hope it was quick, painless, and happened so fast that she didn’t even know it was happening. I hope that more than anything for her. Just as I hope that this girl pulls through, and that if she doesn’t, that she at least goes while unconscious; that she’s asleep and doesn’t continue to feel the horrid pain that’s probably plaguing her body right now.

The way she looked at me, with terror; as though she thought I would make the pain worse. Her voice, cracked with pain and fear, her desperate attempts to get away, even though it probably hurt like hell to try. It makes me want to help her even more, yet I'm stuck out here in the hall, waiting. I just want to know how Lewis is doing.

As if my thoughts summon him, the latch clicks and the door swings open, revealing Lewis and his friend. I take a moment to observe this man. Black hair peppered with grey, a short, goatee style beard, and dark brown eyes define his features. He towers over Lewis by at least six inches. The man’s border collie, who had been tied to the leg of one of the benches, jumps up and begins to bark and whine, its tail lashing eagerly. The man walks over and greets the animal, bending down to pat the head of the black and white dog. I turn to look at Lewis. “Well?” I ask.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Well, it was hard and we nearly lost her twice, but she’s stable now and I think she’ll pull through,” he answers. I allow the tension to leave my shoulders as I slump with relief.

“Good. That’s good, then. Is she awake?”

“No, probably a good thing too, since it would have made our jobs a lot harder if she freaked out again. Look, Soph, I have to fill out a report and Carlos and I are going to get cleaned up and then go for something to eat. There’s a camera in the room and I’ll leave one of the interns monitoring the machines.”

“Don’t bother. Someone should be there to explain things when she wakes up or she may panic even more. I'll sit with her… Maybe record her as a manatee in the files. I don’t know if it should get out that we’ve got a mermaid here. We’d have the press, every nature rights group in the country, and quite possibly the government knocking on our doorstep demanding to see her. I just want to rescue and release, same as always,” I state firmly.

Lewis nods in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing. Don’t worry, Carlos has agreed to keep it on the down low.”

“Who is he anyways?” I ask. “And what’s with the dog?”

“Dr. Carlos Seaton. Remember when I started in the medical department before I dropped out and decided to become a vet instead? Well Carlos was in the medical program with me. He’s a free-lance surgeon and GI specialist. He makes house calls to outpatients and lends a hand to short-handed hospitals. He mostly offers his services to countries around the world that have suffered natural disasters. We’ve kept in touch and since he lives in Queensland, I gave him a call. Luckily he was home and agreed to help. The dog’s name is Chopstick, and he takes the collie everywhere. It’s trained as a therapy dog, so it helps him when he’s working, mostly with children and elderly, as a comforting companion. The dog would probably just scare our fishy friend in there, but Chopstick never leaves his side, so I said it was okay to bring him. You don’t mind do you?”

“Of course not, I was just curious. Look, go get something to eat with your friend and take the day off. If you’re needed, I’ll give you a call.”

Lewis nods. “Alright, thanks. But before you go sit in there all night, like I know you're going to, why don’t you go wash up and maybe get a clean shirt on,” he suggests, tugging on one of my sleeves.

“Huh?” I glance down and see the dried blood coating my hands and sleeves from when I was applying pressure to the wound. I forgot it was still there. “Oh.”

“Yeah. That might freak her out a bit.”

“It’s okay, I have a tank top on underneath so I’ll just wash up in the sink in there,” I state. “Thank Dr. Seaton for me.”

“I will. Oh, and Sophie?”

“Hmm?”

“Be careful. With how she reacted, I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried lashing out again.”

“Don’t worry, I'll be fine,” I reply, before slipping past him and into the treatment room. I shed my long sleeved shirt and let it fall to the floor, smoothing out my tank top down as I do. The sink is on the wall beside the door, so I run the water and scrub at my arms until the blood has run down the drain.

Shaking water droplets from my hands, I pull a chair up to the recovery bed in the middle of the room. The collapsible bed is one of a few that we have for human patients. Since we work as part of a marine rescue team, it is required that we be on call as part of the search and rescue, and have an onsite care unit for sea accidents. Lewis must have brought it out and set it up for the mermaid since it will be easier to keep her immobilized, and allow her to be relatively comfortable. I sit down in the chair and take a moment to glance over her. A thick elastic brace belt is wrapped around her chest, just below the last row of scales on her chest, confirming my suspicions about broken ribs. Another, larger brace hugs her hips, thick bandages wrapping her abdomen disappearing beneath it. Her skin has paled to an ashen grey and her breathing is shallow and shaky, but Lewis is right, she seems to be relatively stable.

Still, I can’t help but notice the tension in her face, indicators of pain even in her unconscious state. An I.V. tube runs from a bag of clear liquid, down into her left hand, which has been tucked into a thick blue mitt, the tube taped along her arm to prevent her from tugging it out. Her free hand is dipping out between the crib-like rails of the bed; the ones that will stop her from falling off the bed, her fingers curled in slightly. I gently ease her arm back through to rest on the mattress, before pushing one of her colorful bangs off her face. I have a brief moment of curiosity on how she managed to dye them out in the ocean. Perhaps it is a natural streak, unique to her biology.

There’s a soft peppering of faint freckles across the top of her cheeks, lining the underside of her eyes, and dotting the bridge of her nose. She’s very pretty, despite all the cuts and bruises littering her arms, face, and torso.

“What did you get yourself into, sweetheart?” I murmur. Of course, I know what happened. Details were collected from a fisherman in the harbor. He had been the one to call in a report, one that was seconded when she washed ashore. The chain on his anchor was damaged, he had been coming in for repairs when it snapped and dropped into the water. When he hauled the anchor back up by the remaining length of chain, he’d seen the blood billowing up and assumed he’d hit a dolphin.

Sympathy swells in me. Poor girl. I can't imagine being crushed beneath something like that. It was the tide that had pulled her to shore. It’s a lucky thing we found her in time.

A soft groan echoes through my thoughts, the pained gasp pulling me from them entirely. Before I can react as I turn to look at the girl, I find something vivid and sharp flashing into my vision. It’s a spiny fin with golden shimmering spines with alternating magenta and turquoise webbing laced between them and the fin appears embedded into the mermaid’s arm. I’m certain I didn’t notice fins on her arms before, but now I find the knife-like spines pressed against my throat.