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“Okay, first of May, bright and sunny out.” You position your camera so it faces you, adjusting it on the tripod till it steadies. That's what you get for buying a cheap one. “For the love of…there we go. Hi!” You step back and wave your arms excitedly, showing the massive scale of the facility behind you.
“Today I’m going to explore the abandoned Northside Aquarium, left alone to rot for the past year.” You turn sideways to point at the rusty sign, nearly falling off its hinges, then pick the camera up and strap it to your body harness. You fold your tripod up and stuff into your backpack while you're at it. You can always edit later.
“Apparently it went under bankruptcy, but there’s rumors that there was a new exhibit that was to open - strange it went under despite the hype. A miraculous new species, they called it.” You climb slowly through an open window while you talk, easing down onto the dusty floor. Did they just take the animals and go?
“But it was never to be. Demolition crews haven’t even been here, as you can see.” You turn slowly so the camera picks up all the broken lights, crumpled posters, kiosks broken beyond repair.
You work your way around the winding staff hallways, following a set of blueprints on your phone. You can’t actually be sure how up to date these are, but so far the hallways have matched. The door labeled ‘atrium access’ opens to the guest atrium, so you breathe a sigh of relief. Silently, you stick your head out to look for any cops or security. This place is miles out of town on a remote beach, and considering the serious effort it would take to rob anything, you doubt anyone would try. But it is strange just how silent everything is. Even those hospitals you used to explore made some kind of noise.
When you hear nothing, you step out onto the first floor. It's massive. The model of the whale shark that used to ‘swim’ overhead lies in tatters, a giant hole where one of its fins were. You tilt your camera up to see the full scope of it, looking around at the different doors to exhibits where the animals once were. But that's not what you’re here for.
“Does anyone remember that commercial on the news?” You fight for a place amongst the hundreds of explorer channels - one must provide some kind of build up. “Before Northside closed. With a shape leaping through the air?” Social media had buzzed for quite a while with speculation on what it could be. An animal bred entirely in captivity or caught wild? Wild theories of fantastical mermaids and some horrible crossbreed were thrown around, if not just an over hyped dolphin.
“Well I’m going to be the first person to document what it was, if there’s anything left. Perhaps there’s ledgers or records if there’s nothing there.” By some stroke of luck, you found an archived blueprint of the abandoned exhibit, accessible by a service tunnel in the back of the aquarium. Apparently it was supposed to be an exhibit in the bay - kind of cruel to put a captive sea animal feet from freedom, but you’re no marine biologist.
You pass by each of the exhibits, opening the door to get a peek inside for thoroughness sake. They’re all black as pitch with no electricity. The worst of it is the cephalopods section, a model of a kraken startling you back out of an exhibit. Now you remember why you had such a hard time coming here when you were younger.
“Whoops, hehe, forgot that was there.” You force yourself back in for the views, ignoring its sheer size and the way the tentacles reach out for you.
You shut the door and continue onwards. Now you’re at the back of the atrium, the staff door with a faded ‘KEEP OUT’ painted in what used to be bright red. Your map says it's just down this hallway and through another tunnel. Strangely this is the only way to access it, if it was supposed to be the hot new attraction…
“The new exhibit is just down this hallway. My source? A little something I found.” Tentatively, you give the handle a try. It opens with a piercing screech.
The hallway stretches before you. Staff doors line the hallways and abandoned carts lie overturned next to them. That's the most you can see in the gloom.
“Damn, you would think the staff rooms have windows. Good thing I got this.” You unzip a side pocket and take out your handheld light, shining the beacon down the hallway. There’s carts all over the place, actually, nearly piled on top of each other. Did they toss' em all in here?
Carefully you step over the debris, shining your light on the faded staff roster and safety posters. There’s even feeding schedules, with the animal at the bottom scratched out in red marker.
“See that? I can’t really make out the name though.” You squint at the poster, holding the camera up to it. You can kind of see two lines of text, perhaps a genius and a species? But all the other names are listed as ‘Lola: Harp Seal’.
You frown but continue onwards. “Whatever that was, it looked personal. Those scratches look scribbled.” Like the animal is hated, for whatever reason. Did it hurt someone? Kill someone? There was nothing released publicly, but the haste in which they vacated the place speaks volumes. You’re stepping over discarded paperers and buckets, glass from shattered windows as if they were all rushing to get out.
Nervously, you continue your commentary. “All these shattered windows make it look like whatever it is got out. Looks like a tornado ran through here.” But the hallway remains silent regardless, so you think you are safe from any attacks.
The tunnel to the exhibit then dips down in front of you, the stairs to descend engulfed in total darkness. You swallow.
“Alright, total darkness and an unknown exit. Great. Please like and subscribe everybody as I may be doing something stupid.” Feeling distinctly like you were stepping into a horror movie, you take careful steps onwards. The glass crunches beneath your boots, shining the light down the U of the tunnel. Are you underground?
At least it is short. The door at the opposite stairs is thankfully unlocked, the sun blinding you with its full force and forcing you to blink. You’re here, finally. You hope.
“Exhibit seventeen,” you mutter to your camera. It seems to be totally deserted, but that doesn’t mean it is. “It’s trashed…”
Everything that’s upturned is. Construction equipment, papers, signs. All of it is scattered all over the concrete as if a beast tore through it. You toe carefully around the sharp edges, weaving around what seems to be a half formed educational section. There’s pictures of animals you can’t quite make out, foam cut outs around it in the shape of drifting seaweed. You really wish you can make out more of the animal other than some kind of back fin.
You press your hand against the foam, angling your camera to one of the exhibit descriptions. Frustration furrows your brow - why is everything so scratched out?
It’s then when you finally hear something. Your heart leaps into your throat, crouching down on instinct and covering your mouth. This cannot be when you finally get arrested. It's a rite of passage for urban explorers like you, but you thought you had at least a few more adventures till you’re fined for trespassing. You strain your ears to listen.
There’s nothing but the blood pounding in your ears. Maybe you imagined it.
There it is again. It’s not footsteps though, or talking.
It sounds like…crying?
You’re sure of it - it sounds like a baby crying, high pitched but trying to muffle themselves as if afraid. Much like you are, with your hand pressed over your mouth. Fear worms its way into your stomach but for a child somehow breaking in! How did they get this far?
Hesitancy forgotten, you scramble from your hiding spot and work your way through the maze of rotting display exhibits and abandoned decorations. How big were they going to make this place? It's practically a playground! As such, it takes considerably longer than you would like to reach the viewing platform.
The sobbing gets louder. Whoever they are must be terrified. Your heart breaks for the young child, but where are they? The concrete comes to a stop at a fence some yards ahead of you, and the only places they could be is the risers stretching on either side of you and the bay. The risers are empty.
Shoot. They fell into the bay. You can only hope that it's not a long drop, shuffling to the edge to peer over.
…Those are not children.
Lying on the sand of the man made bay are two…fish? Your mind struggles to comprehend them - they’re humanoid with flat faces and brightly colored fish tails. The only thing you can think of is a mer, with their glittering tails and fins on their strange faces. The harsh sun beats down on them where they lay.
It turns out the crying was the yellow one. It’s pressed closely against a blue one, weeping as it nuzzles them. You can see why, it’s companion is hopelessly tangled in a net and twisted in on itself. Dried blood lays baking in the sand underneath it, as it lies listlessly on the beach. For a moment you fear it has died, but it feebly warbles and presses against the yellow one. As if in reassurance.
Horror yawns a hole in your chest. Your hands raise your mouth as tears spring to your eyes, almost choking on a sob. They did not take all the animals as they said. They left them here to rot, a few yards from the ocean, for what?
You need to do something. Call for help, upload your footage online, get the news, anything! You can see their ribs through their skin from here! They can’t be doing very well after being left alone for god knows how long. The blue one won’t live long without medical attention.
You’re frozen with indecision for so long the yellow one’s head snaps up to you, cries dropping suddenly into a sharp hiss. The fins around its head flatten into its skull, raising the spines along its tail in an intimidation display. The threat is lost in the broken patches from rot and starvation. Seeing you make no move, it pushes itself on top of its companion and hunches over them.
The blue one growls weakly. From here, you can see its face twist in pain while the net cuts deeper.
They’re going to die like this. The threat display is barely bigger than a small puppy. How long will it take for you to reach help, and how many days will they take to respond to it? Suddenly, the thought of leaving them like this tastes like bile in the back of your throat.
You have a knife in your back pack. You fish it out quickly, striding fast over to the staff ramp that goes straight onto the sand.
“This is a tremendously stupid idea.” If the mers tear you apart, at least your camera can tell people how you died. “But would you leave an animal to die a few feet from you? I can’t.” The ramp gate is easy to leap over, the ramp shaking dangerously underneath you. The yellow one’s hissing gets louder.
“Hi there.” Once you get closer, you crouch down and move far slower. “I'm sorry for scaring you, poor thing.” The yellow mer’s eyes narrow, but now that you’re closer, you can see how hard it's trembling. Yet, it hunches harder over their companion, trying to shield it as much as possible.
“It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you or your friend.” Your easy tone of voice does little. It eyes warily at your knife, puffing up harder at every twitch you make. You can only imagine what previous humans have done to them. You can picture scientists trying to approach them in a similar tone of voice as yours. But how to get them to understand you?
“Leaaaveee.” Your mouth drops open, did it just talk? “Won’t let you hurt.”
“You - can you understand me?”
“Leaaaveeee…please...” It - well, perhaps not an it if he can clearly understand you - swipes at you, but collapses on his front weakly. They moan in pain from what must be nasty sunburns all over him, staying out here to help his friend. Your frown at his attempts at begging.
“I just want to get your friend out of the net.” You slide your back pack off and hold your knife out to the side, gesturing to the blue one. He glares at you weakly. You tell them your name, speaking slowly and edging around both of their sharp claws. By some miracle neither of them swipe at you. Perhaps at this point, they are too weak to muster it.
They also don’t respond with their names. “The net’s hurting you, right?” You try addressing the captive mer, getting an awfully reedy growl in return. More predator-like than the other one, if his red eyes and knife’s edge fins are anything to go by. “See? I’m just cutting you loose. Please don’t rip me to shreds,” you plead, and slowly place the knife on a rope. No one moves; a breath held in anticipation. You’re frightened by the ribs you can see poking through the blue one’s chest.
When you remain intact, you start to cut through the binds. This is going to take you a while.
Out of the corner of your eye, the yellow mer slithers over and presses himself against his friend, staring at you with wide eyes. He chitters and churrs at them quietly, the blue one weakly clicking back. They look like a bonded pair, pressed so close - the color difference in their tails looks like the day and night overlapping.
“Do you guys have names?” They stare at you, but offer no response. “Okay. You’re Sun and you’re Moon.” You point to each of them, wilting under the force of two stares. It's so very different to when a dog tilts their head because you said the word treat. There’s intelligence. They understand you.
“Oookay. Uh, Moon, I need to cut the parts on your tail.” You shift downward, telegraphing your intentions. Sun shifts and drags himself alongside you, eyeing you nervously. He looks like he’s about to cry if fish could. “I have to cut close to your spines. Can you flatten them?”
The answer is a threatening growl. The no is clear as day - you purse your lips, but it is what it is. Maybe you can cut along the bottom where his tail folds in half, since the spines are squashed down there? It would take longer rather than cutting through the thickest parts, but you’re not going to force a mythical being to do anything. His tail even has stars on it, cutting it turns your stomach.
Sun pipes up then, clicking something in protest. They begin to volley back and forth, Moon’s tail squirming in agitation. You can see cuts where the ropes only dig in further. Sun points to this, clicks loudly, and starts gesturing wildly to you. Tears spring to his eyes again.
“Fineee.” Moon suddenly hisses, staring at the sand. His voice is a lot raspier than Sun’s, and sounds more like a snake’s. You watch as the blue fins fold themselves flat along his tail, leaned out of the way of your hands. He refuses to look at you.
You take your cue for what it is, making quick work of the thick netting. Bit by bit, his tail unfolds and loosens, the rope pulled carefully out from where it was embedded into the scales. He hisses in silent pain, Sun laying back down next to him and cooing. How long have they been like this, with only each other and the net? It must have been after the place shut down, the cuts are relatively fresh.
Your resolve hardens in your heart - screw calling someone. There has got to be a door or a keypad that will let them out back into the ocean and away from human hands. Images of other humans taking them away in more nets crosses through your mind. They could be experimented on or bought and put on display somewhere else.
“I'm sorry.” Both heads turn to face you. “Not that it means much. I'm sure you hate humans, but regardless, I'm sorry this happened.” Moon’s tail straightens out as he stretches it, the muscles rippling. If he wanted to, he could easily knock you out with a tail slap. You’re happy with the little trust you’ve been given. “I’m gonna get you guys out of here. I'll figure it out.”
“Out?” Sun asks, then hope fills his eyes. “Sea?” He points to the sea wall, rising high above bay with a control room atop it. Claw marks mark the wall. Poor fish.
“Yes.” You peel back the net, Moon scooting backwards out of the hole. Sun takes hold of his upper body and hauls him backwards, clicking excitedly. Somehow they both make it into the water, swimming quickly to a meager overhang for shade.
You stand there for a moment, just watching them. They twist around each other and hold close - no, that's not all they’re doing. It’s hard to see in the murky water, but you watch as Sun’s scales light up under the shade, pressing his forehead to Moon, whose mouth is moving.
Your face flushes, scrambling for the camera to turn it off now that you’re no longer about to be fillet. They deserve a private moment to themselves while you figure out how to get them to sea.
The first and most obvious choice would be the control room. Like everything else, it was left unlocked. You guess they didn’t care about looters so far back here and through a tunnel, totally closed off from everything else. The only way to see into the enclosure is by flight or boat, and no one bothers to drive all the way up here.
It serves your purposes. But there’s no electricity. The room’s computer screens remain black no matter what you press, forcing you to search the room for some other way. Maybe there’s a lever, or even a door you can open - ah, you’re in luck. Next to the console is a giant wheel to open the spillway doors, just with no power assist. You take hold of it and heave it towards you, listening to the squeal of metal as it opens. The water does the rest, the sea rushing in to fill the very low water levels.
Jesus. It was barely deep enough for Sun and Moon to get underwater, much less live like that. You descend back down the stairs and lean over the railing, joy spreading a smile up your face as they watch the waterfall pour. It’ll be filled in no time!
“The sea!” You call, pointing excitedly.
“Sea, friend! Sea!” Sun calls back, swimming laps around his partner. Moon looks tired, but no longer bleeding. Woah. Siren magic.
You climb back down and stand in the sand for a few moments, intent on leaving them be in a minute. They probably want nothing to do with you now.
Instead, Sun swims up to you and clicks to get your attention, scales flashy under the sun. He looks a lot better now, tears wiped clean from his face and giving you a wide toothy grin. He tries an approximation of your name, twisting words on his tongue.
“Sirensss don’t for…forge…” He titters in frustration.
“Debt to human.” Moon finishes, eyeing you from behind Sun. He looks less hostile, but not entirely on board with your general existence.
“Yes! Call when need.” Sun cups his hand around his mouth, then points out to the sea. “Call, we hear. We accept title.”
“In waaater.” All of a sudden Moon is at your feet, the tide rushing in rapidly. His claws are an inch from your ankle. “Call in sea. We hear.” Your heart rate picks up at the proximity - there’s something otherworldly about them now that the sea has given them strength. How on earth were they captured in the first place?
By now, the waterline has risen enough that they dive underwater and make a beeline for the exit, but not before turning around and giving you one last look. You wave, they flip their tails in the sun back.
Then there is silence.
Tears slip down your cheeks, an unnamed emotion squirming in your gut. It’s the cruelty that you stumbled upon - what if you had never gone here? They would have starved to death, or Moon would have bled out on the sand. But you also miss them. Despite only seeing them for a minute, but you have so many questions to ask them. Did they have a home? A family? Can you see them again?
And that last part. A title. You ponder this all the way home, to the point the video never gets uploaded or worked on.
Who can blame you? Not when your dreams are plagued with scales and claws, leading you gently through a sea of bubbles.
Strange….
Fin <3