Cry of the Sea
aquariums and a tide pool in the front
lobby. Tourists paid admission to see the tiny reef sharks and hold
sea slugs in their hands. Little kids tortured sea stars, and
everyone marveled at the jellyfish tank.
    What the average person and school group
didn’t realize was that behind the double doors on the far side of
the room was a warehouse facility. I could remember from the time I
came a few years back being amazed at how much stuff was on the
other side of those doors. And I felt so special being let in on
the big secret of it all. The room itself was massive, and at the
far end of it were two tanks large enough for dolphins to swim in
tight circles, and they were set up side-by-side, filling the
entire length of the wall, precisely for emergencies like oil
spills or fishing disasters. Porpoises getting caught in tuna nets,
otters stuck in plastic 6-pack soda rings, orcas maimed but not
killed by harpoons. Along the right wall were sturdy shelves lined
with more aquariums of varying sizes and some cages for rescued sea
birds. Usually the pelicans and seagulls were sick from eating
poisoned fish, and sometimes they had hooks stuck in their beaks.
In the center of the room were some long, metal examination tables.
Many cabinets, a sink, and all the tools of the trade cluttered the
left side of the room, along with a door leading to a private
office, and a hallway that led to an examination room and a locker
room for cleaning up.
    Carter flung open those double doors at that
moment, giving me just a glimpse of the vast room of water and
glass. I moved to follow him, eager to see if my memory of the room
and reality were the same, but he stopped in the doorway and told
me, “I’ll set up a tank while you bring in the fish.”
    Stretching my neck to see past his shoulders,
I asked, “Do you know how to do that?”
    “Do you know how to bring the fish in?” he
questioned in return, slipping through the doors and allowing them
to shut with a bang behind him.
    The challenge spoken, I retreated to the
parking lot to hold the door open for my dad who had already
unloaded the surviving mermaid. He carried her gently toward the
center and had just passed through the door when another car
skidded into a parking spot. The noise caught my attention, and I
hesitated before shutting the door behind me to get a better
glimpse of who had just arrived. It was just an ordinary, unmarked
compact car.
    “Dad, someone’s here,” I said to my father,
who was already halfway across the room.
    “I need your help, June,” he said. “Come
on.”
    “But what if it’s Affron? What if one of them
followed us?”
    “Then close the door and help me move this
body out of sight.”
    I shut the door tight and ran across the room
to open the double doors to the warehouse for my dad. He was
panting under the weight of the mermaid.
    “What about the other mermaids?” I said,
suddenly realizing they were still out there in the truck bed. My
heart started beating really hard. “They’ll see them.”
    “They’re under a blanket,” Dad said.
    We kept moving inside, heading for the large
tank at the end where Carter was adjusting temperatures.
    “Over here, you two,” Carter called over his
shoulder. “Is that it? I thought there were going to be three of
them.”
    “Two of them died,” I said.
    “That’s too bad,” he said sincerely. He faced
my dad to help lift the creature up into the tank. When he saw the
mermaid, he jumped back. “What the hell is that?”
    Dad didn’t answer. Instead, he asked,
“Where’s Dr. Schneider?” By his tone, it sounded like he wasn’t
thrilled with the presence of this teenage intern either.
    “Right here.”
    The new voice behind us startled me. I hadn’t
heard the door open over our talking. Dad and I both snapped our
heads to see Dr. Schneider closing the double doors behind him. The
thin, balding man grabbed a lab coat from a hook by the cluttered
desk beside the doors and slipped it on over

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