Tag: sequel to the storm dark sea

Sequel to The Storm-Dark Sea

~

The lady came out of the sea on Monday.

It was sunny, so Sammie had eaten breakfast and headed down to the beach at first light. Now that she was ten, Mama was willing to let her go without an adult, as long as she stayed away from the water. It was only across the road, after all, and it wasn’t like the road saw much traffic but semis, which you could hear literally a mile off on a calm day.

Staying away from the water wasn’t any problem — Sammie wouldn’t want to go in anyway. This was Alaska; even in August, it was too cold to want to get your feet wet, let alone swim. She always wore her older sister’s outgrown rain boots, the red rubber now faded to orange, and steered clear of the tidal pools (which could be a lot deeper than they looked). 

There were always plenty of interesting things to poke with a stick, but her favorite hobby was taking pictures. Gran had bought her a camera for her last birthday — a proper one, that you had to focus and everything — and though Mama had said she was way too young, she still let Sammie take it out with her. Probably because she knew Gran would shout if she didn’t.

Sammie was careful with what she took pictures of, because film was expensive, but she thought she had some good ones so far. There was sunrise over the mountains, and sunset over the sea, and lots of the little things that lived in the tidepools — starfish and oysters and anemones. This morning she’d wanted to get the sun on the waves, but the lady threw that idea right out the window.

She was the palest person Sammie had ever seen, her long hair tangled around her arms and shoulders like wet blue rope. She walked like the current didn’t bother her at all, even though  Mama hd told Sammie it would suck her out to sea if it caught her. The lady was still up to her waist, buffeted by the waves, but she might as well have been a rock for all they moved her.

Sammie raised her camera, carefully focusing before she snapped several pictures, because honestly, what else was she supposed to do? It wasn’t like anyone would believe her if she didn’t have proof, and she couldn’t just run way, or Jackie and Martin would call her a pussy until the end of time.

And she didn’t really want to run away. She ought to be scared — and she was, a little — but mostly she couldn’t believe her own eyes. She knew the sea, the grey-blue sight and salty, briny smell of it; she’d never been afraid of it or anything that came out of it, so why start now? The cold wind bit her cheeks, the waves sighed on the sand, and now the sea-lady was close enough for Sammie to see her expression. There was no way anybody could be afraid of someone who looked so sad.

“Are you a sea-thing?” she called, hoping she could be heard over the waves. “Or an alien? Only I don’t see a spaceship.” She took another picture, just because, and hoped the lady wouldn’t be mad.

She didn’t seem mad — she smiled, but it too was sad. Up close, Sammie could see her eyes didn’t match: one was blue and green, like a pinwheel, while the other was black with an orange bit. She couldn’t tell how old the lady was — not young, but not Mama’s age, either. “Neither,” she said. “Wish I had a spaceship. Where am I?”

That was kind of a weird question — but then, she probably hadn’t had a map or anything underwater. “Unalaska,” Sammie said. “Aren’t you cold?”

The lady sloshed her way out of the waves, her boot squelching on the sand. She had on jeans and a white tank top — totally the wrong clothes for Alaska any time of the year. “A little. Aren’t you scared?”

Sammie shrugged. “A little. You’re not gonna eat me, are you?” The lady was tall, taller even than Dad, and wiry like Uncle Luke. Her arms and her throat were covered in big heavy scars, and she had a long one through her left eye. “Are you a zombie?”

That made the lady laugh, and Sammie relaxed. She doubted zombies laughed. “No, and no.” Her eyes, however, were still sad, and they wandered over Sammie’s face and long blonde hair. “You look so much like my daughter,” she said softly. “What she woulda looked like, if she’d lived.”

Okay that, as Dad would say, was just goddamn heartbreaking. Mama would be away at work by now, and Jackie was probably doing whatever Jackie did on summer days (Sammie was pretty sure it involved beer); Sea Lady was coming to her house and having some of Mama’s vodka. It was what all the other grown-ups seemed to drink when they were upset. “Come on,” she said, holding out her left hand. The wind had sent her fingers numb, but you couldn’t very well take pictures wearing mittens. “I dunno what’ll happen if other people see you out here, but I doubt it’ll be anything good.”

Sea Lady looked genuinely surprised. She hesitated a moment, but put her hand in Sammie’s — it felt frozen, but she had just been underwater. At least it didn’t feel like touching a fish, or some other gross thing. Her skin was soft, like a child’s. All the other adults Sammie knew had hands that were rough from working in the cannery.

The lady was silent as they approached the road, and it gave Sammie time to wonder what the hell she was doing. She’d been told all her life not to talk to strangers, and Sea Lady was the strangest stranger she’d ever seen, but she couldn’t just leave the woman on the beach. Mama didn’t need to know, and she could blackmail Jackie into keeping her trap shut if she had to.

Speaking of Jackie, she was coming up the road with Martin, who was apparently her boyfriend. She was fourteen and he was sixteen, and Dad didn’t like him because of it, but Mama said Dad was an idiot because Martin was different and wouldn’t knock her up. Sammie didn’t know what any of that meant, but it all sounded gross, and she really didn’t want to make Sea Lady deal with either one of them.

But it was too late — they’d seen her, and had given each other a nervous look. Ugh, did they think Sammie was some sort of baby? She was ten, for Christ’s sake. She could look after herself. Mama said so.

“Who’s your new friend?” Jackie called, her voice almost carried away by the wind. She sounded curious as well as worried: outside of fishing season, Unalaska didn’t see many strangers. The year-round population was less than six hundred, which was probably why all the teenagers got so bored.

Sammie looked up at Sea Lady, and realized she hadn’t actually asked for her name. Oops.

“I’m Sharley,” Sea Lady said, saving her. Her accent was funny; she didn’t sound like anyone Sammie had ever met.

“She came out of the sea,” Sammie added helpfully.

Both Jackie’s and Martin’s eyes widened when they got closer, and saw that Sharley was soaking wet. “Jesus, you must be freezing,” Jackie said. “Sammie, get her inside before she dies of hypothermia.” She shrugged off her big red coat as she spoke, holding it out to Sharley. That was the thing about Jackie — she could be a brat who wore too much makeup and hogged the bathroom, but she wasn’t an asshole.

“Thank you, but I think you need it more than I do,” Sharley said gently. “I”m a bit past worrying about hypothermia, though I’d like to dry my clothes.”

Jackie paused, her eyes nervous again, but Martin almost looked excited. “Are you a sea spirit?” he asked. His granny had been Inuit, and had told him all kinds of stories and myths. Of course he wouldn’t be as freaked out.

“Not quite, though I’ve met a few,” Sharley said, sounding amused. “I might not freeze out here, but you three will, if you don’t get out of this wind.”

That was all Sammie needed, because her face was going numb. She all but dragged Sharley across the road before Jackie could protest, up the steep hill to the house. Gravel crunched under her boots, but Sharley’s feet were scary silent. Hopefully all the neighbors were at work, or this could get really annoying.

The house was small, but cozy, especially once Sammie stirred up the woodstove. Since the power seemed to go out every time someone sneezed, a high shelf ran around the living-room, lined with candles and hurricane-lanterns, as well as a bunch of the weird things they’d all found on the beach over the years. The walls were wood-paneled, the floor easy-to-clean linoleum that Mama said was olive-green, but Sammie had never seen a green olive, and still wasn’t sure they actually existed.

Sea Lady Sharley sat in front of the stove, and was basking in the heat with her eyes shut, just like the cats did. Her went clothes and hair were actually steaming a little, which was good, because Sammie didn’t have any clothes to loan her that would actually fit. Jackie was older and bigger, sure, but still a lot shorter than Sharley, and curvy where Sharley wasn’t.

“Where did you come from?” Jackie asked, shucking her coat. Mama had given her a home perm last week, but the wind just turned it into a poofball that looked kind of like a dandelion puff. Nobody was supposed to tell her that, though, because teenagers were sensitive, or…something. All Sammie knew was that she hoped somebody would tell her if she ever looked that stupid.

“I told you,” she scowled. “She came out of the sea.”

“Yeah, but how did she get into the sea? Did you fall off a boat, or do you, you know, live in there?” Light never got down into the deep water; maybe that was why she was so pale.

Sharley smiled a little. The heat hadn’t brought any color into her skin, but Sammie wasn’t surprised. “I jumped off a boat,” she said. “They’d figured out what I wasn’t, and I didn’t see any point in terrifying them all until we made land. Current probably dragged me all the hell over the Alaskan shoreline.”

The sound of something frying followed Martin as he came out of the kitchen. “What are you?” he asked, wiping his hands on a towel. His dark hair had a pretty impressive case of hat hair going on, all smashed down on his head.

She shrugged. “Dunno,” she said. “Not anymore.” The sadness was back in her weird eyes, and Sammie wanted to kick Martin, who looked like he had a whole boatload more questions.

“But you’re immortal, right? Or you couldn’t have survived being in the water more than a few minutes.”

Sea Lady held out her bone-white right arm. Up close, the scars looked even nastier, and Sammie, who hadn’t been raised by wolves, tried not to stare. “Sort of. I’m already dead.”

Jackie side-eyed her hard, but Martin, always curious, touched her wrist, feeling for a pulse. They’d all had First Aid in school, so he knew how to find one, but he didn’t seem to be finding it now. “Your skin’s still so cold,” he said, and he sounded more intrigued than afraid.

“No heartbeat,” she said. “No circulation. I don’t breathe, if I don’t think about it.”

“What happens when you eat? Can you still, you know, poop?”

“Martin!” Jackie smacked him. “You can’t just ask somebody if they take a dump. Jesus.”

Sharley burst out laughing. It was a hoarse, rusty sound, like she didn’t do it very often, but it made her look younger, and less like a statue. “No, I don’t,” she said. “When I eat, it just…goes away. I dunno how. I haven’t been like this for very long — I’m still getting used to it.”

“Martin, if you ask how she died, I swear I’ll jam my boot so far up your ass,” Jackie warned.

He didn’t get the chance — the smoke alarm went off over the stove, and he scrambled into the kitchen. Jackie cackled, and Sharley smiled.

“It’s a disgusting story,” she said, “and I won’t tell it. Is something on fire in there?” A scary amount of smoke was floating out from the kitchen — Martin just lost his reputation as a cook, as far as Sammie was concerned.

“No — shit! Maybe? Little help, Jackie?”

“Mama’s gonna murder us,” Jackie groaned, scrambling to her feet. “Don’t go anywhere, Sea Lady.”

 

~

 

Sharley was…bemused. This was not the sort of reception she was used to. None of these children looked at her as adults did — as though she were something toxic, a thing to be avoided at all costs. The little one had not flinched at touching her hand, and that was an extreme rarity. Most had shrunk from her touch even when she was alive.

She sat quite still while the teenagers flailed in the kitchen; she’d intervene if necessary, but the room was too small even for the pair of them, let alone someone of Sharley’s size. At least the girl shut the smoke alarm off, accompanied by much swearing. The grease stank, but the boy, wiser than he appeared on the surface, grabbed the pan and hurried out the door.

Focusing, Sharley drew another deep breath. Yes, it reeked, but it was a human thing — and at least her sense of smell had not died when she did. This house held many scents: slight smoke from the woodstove, a hint of aftershave that she suspected would be all but overpowering in person, the lingering aroma of coffee, and underneath it all, the salty scent of the sea.  Human smells, in a human world, made by people with no knowledge of the nightmares that lurked beyond the bounds of Earth.

Sammie returned, slightly red-faced. She’d shed her boots and coat, but her blonde hair was still wind-blown. Even with her brown eyes, she resembled Marty so much that it hurt to look at her. But this child was alive, and unafraid, her innocent gaze as forthright as it was curious. “Sorry,” she said. “Martin thinks he can cook.”

“Hey!”

“She has a point,” the older girl said, with a roll of her eyes. She looked very like her little sister, save for that ungodly perm: just as blonde, and even more freckled. Wrinkling her nose, she opened the narrow window. “Mama really is gonna kill us.”

“Not if she doesn’t find out,” the boy said. The poor kid was half a head shorter than his girlfriend, thin and nervous-looking, and he perched quite gingerly in a tobacco-plaid armchair that looked straight out of 1945. His eyes, so dark they were nearly black, regarded her with frank appraisal. “Where were you going, in the sea?”

Sharley shrugged, and leaned toward the stove. Heat and cold had little effect on her now, but she could still enjoy a warm fire. “Dunno. Away from where I was. Guess I’ll hitch a ride south, once anyone’s going.”

Somebody knocked on the front door, and the older girl swore with a creativity that was downright impressive, even for Alaska. Sharley didn’t think she’d ever heard the word ‘cuntberry’ before, but it was one to remember. 

She rose, and moved to the corner that couldn’t be seen from the door (which she shared with a low clothes-drying rack that still held a few socks). The knocking grew louder and more insistent, and the girl looked ready to murder someone as she yanked the door open.

“Joni, it’s a bad time,” she said, but another girl shoved her way inside anyway. This one looked to be the same age, with a staggeringly massive Farrah Fawcett hairdo that reeked of AquaNet and cigarette smoke, swathed in a vivid blue ski coat.

“Paisley,” Jimmy said, circling her unseen. Sharley was somewhat amazed the voices had stayed quiet this long. “Whose idea was that in the first place?”

“It’s not bad when it’s not…that,” Layla said, in tones of fascinated horror. “How the hell does she get her hair like that? It’s like twice the size of her head.”

“Right, so one of the guys at the cannery says he’s got a motorcycle — what the fuck are you burning?”

“Like I said,” Jackie said, shoving her firmly toward the door, “it’s a bad time. Go bug the guy from the cannery.”

Whatever this Joni’s faults, she dodged like a champ — she made it around Jackie in less than two seconds, waving at the lingering smoke. “He’s at work — oh. Um. Hi?”

“Hi,” Sharley said, watching her closely. 

Sammie, Jackie, and Martin closed in around the girl like sharks. They were so bright, so pure — so innocent, even where they thought they were not. Like Marty had been, in her few, brief years upon the Earth.

“You shouldn’t smoke,” she said, still eying the new girl.

“I don’t,” the girl said, tossing her head — she’d used so much hairspray that her hair didn’t move. “Mom does, so the whole house stinks.”

“Yes, you do,” Sharley said, gentle but insistent. It took some effort to focus on the girl’s history, but it was there, sure enough. “The guy at the cannery got you started. I know you think he’s hot shit, but he just wants in your pants. If you don’t want to get knocked up at fourteen, give him the boot.”

Joni stared at her, expression torn between outrage and unease. The smoke must have been making her eyes water, because her eyeliner was rapidly smearing. “You can’t know—”

“Your mother named you after Joni Mitchell,” Sharley said, approaching her carefully. At her height, she could intimidate whether she wanted to or not. “The idiot at the cannery calls you Janie sometimes, and you don’t correct him because you think he won’t bring you any more beer.” She could see the little shit all too clearly in Joni’s history — a weasley, greasy man-boy with fishy blue eyes and what he probably thought was a Tom Selleck mustache.

“Do you read minds, Sea Lady?” Sammie asked, wide-yed.

“No,” Sharley said, still staring at Joni, who’d gone pale. “Time. I see Time.”

“Should you really be telling them this?” Sinsemilla asked.

“Joni, is she — is she right?” Jackie asked, eying Sharley with renewed unease.

The girl swallowed. “Don’t tell my mom or she’ll kill me.” Her voice was smaller now, and younger — far less like a girl pretending hard to be a woman. “Jim, he said he doesn’t like little girls — I told him I was sixteen, and everybody here drinks and smokes by then.”

On impulse, Sharley reached out and took the girl’s hand — so warm and alive, her nails done in chipped red polish. Like Sammie, she didn’t flinch. “Joni, if you have to lie to him, he’s not worth it,” she said. “You’re fourteen. You’ve got a long, long time to be an adult, so why hurry to get there?”

“Because…because… I dunno,” Joni said, looking at Sharley’s bone-white hand. The girl was fair-skinned, but Sharley’s pallor was not that of the living. “There’s nothing else to do here. No movies or anything, or anywhere to buy stuff. Just ocean and sky.”

“Do you know what I woulda given for either of those, when I was your age?” Sharley asked softly. “Your world is alive, Joni. You have sun and stars and rain, and air a person actually wants to breathe. You’re richer than you have any idea of.”

She paused. Her clothes were dry-ish; they wouldn’t freeze if she went outside. “C’mon, all of you — get your coats. Got something to show you.”

 

~

 

Sammie did not know what to make of Sea Lady. It could sort of make sense, her knowing stuff — she wasn’t human, after all — but still. It was not what Sammie had expected, that was for damn sure.

And yet she scrambled for her coat and boots, happy to go outside and let the house air out. She took her camera, too.

They didn’t have a whole hell of a lot of yard — just some lawn and what Mama called her rock garden. Summer was too short for anything but the daisies in the kitchen windowsill, safe inside. The sun was bright — what Dad called squinty light, because, well, it made you squint. Everybody talked about how bright the sun was in places like Hawaii, but it was pretty damn bright here, too, and even worse on the water.

Sea Lady ran her pale fingers over a mossy stone. “I want you to look at this,” she said. “The moss, and the grass — this new, green grass — and imagine a world where all of it’s dead. Imagine a world where the sky’s red, and even though there’s no sun, it’s so hot you feel you can barely breathe sometimes. The air’s stuffy, dead, like — well, like you find in a closet that’s been shut for ages.

A feeling of deep unease crept over Sammie’s mind, and with it, mental images she didn’t need or want. She could imagine it a little too well — so well she could almost feel suffocating heat, even though the sea’s chilly breeze tugged at her hair.

“It’s possible for humans to live there, but it’s really not any fun at all — and most people don’t live to get old,” Sea Lady added. “It was a green world once, every bit as alive as Earth, but a long, long time ago there was a war, and that war left hardly anything when it was done. You breathe this clean air, and feel how soft this moss is. When night falls, you look at the stars, and then imagine what it would be like to see them for the very first time in your life. Your world is a gift that too few of you cherish, because you don’t know how much worse it could be.”

Joni shifted uncomfortably, and gave Jackie a very nervous look. “You don’t ever have to go back there, d’you?”

Sea Lady smiled up at her, and it was so, so sad. “Yes,” she said. “Eventually I may come back here, but just now, I need to go. If your parents find me here, they’ll have questions I can’t answer.”

“You’re not — are you gonna go back in the sea?” Jackie asked.

The Sea Lady stood — God she was so, so tall — and her smile became a little more genuine. “No,” she said. “No, I don’t have to. You guys would do best to forget me, but I know that’ll never happen. Be safe. Be smart.” She stepped backward, and then she was just — gone. One moment there was a Sea Lady, and the next there was nothing at all. The suddenness of it stunned the entire group into a silence that seemed to last forever.

“What,” Joni said at last, “the fuck was that?” Her voice was far from steady. “Was that — was she even real?”

“Well, duh,” Martin said. “I mean, we all saw her, didn’t we? Nobody’s ever gonna believe us, but we saw her. Whatever the hell she was, and wherever the hell she went — and however the fuck she did it.”

“I took her picture,” Sammie said. “Coming out of the sea. Maybe nobody’ll believe us, but there’s a picture. Two of them.”

None of them responded, and she stared out at the sea, still sparkling under the morning sun.