Cold Water

The brother comes to see him again the next evening, but this time they’ve got their hands full with some sort of plastic contraption. They set it on the coffee table and open it up to reveal a little TV with plastic squares. Knauss is leaning out of den to get a better look but he jerks back when the human moves around again.

They fiddle with some sort of black cord, attaching it to the wall and then the plastic little TV and then finally they settle themself onto the couch.

Knauss can’t help but be curious, it’s the first thing he’s seen the human bring with him to the room other than his little tiny hand-held plastic square. Humans certainly have some sort of fixation with the toxic material. Knauss assumes he will never understand it.

“So I’ve been googling it more and apparently people already knew mermaids could talk. Not just like, parrots, but like people. You know there’s some activist groups that try to say mermaids aren’t just semi-sentient, but like humans?” The human speaks. Knauss assumes the thing he’s holding is called a “googling”. Or maybe it’s the tool to be googled with?

While he’s busy sorting out the semantics of googling, the human huffs a deep sigh.

“You know, this would be a lot fucking easier if you just said something,” he says, pouty. Knauss cocks an eyebrow but continues eating his dinner in silence. In spite of it being a perk of captivity, he couldn’t complain about the regular meals he got now. When it becomes obvious that he doesn’t plan on replying the human growls.

“Fine, then. Be stubborn. I don’t fucking care. You’re obviously having a blast all on your own,” they snap, closing the device roughly and throwing themselves back in the couch.

Knauss is ready to hide but despite his little fit, the human doesn’t turn around.

He’s quietly grateful for that.

The rest of the night passes in silence again, like it used to, but now he finds himself lingering by the edge of his tank closest to the human, eyes fixed on the TV while trying to pay attention to the English. At least it’s not boring to learn when there’s a reason to.

*

The next evening he spends alone, rolling in the warm water of his tank and chasing fish he has no intent to actually catch.

He feels lighter than he did a few days before because despite his days being the same droll, boring monotony they’ve always been, it’s kind of nice to have something to look forwards to at night. Even if that something is the silent company of a human who hasn’t tried to look at him since that first night.

It’s so nice, in fact, that he forgot that this brother wasn’t the only one that lurked in the house outside his tank.

*

When the red faced brother, the boss, comes again it’s during the day like usual. This time, however, they aren’t screaming and waving their hands at his tank. This time they have someone else with them.

They’re both speaking in hushed tones that he can’t understand from this distance and it makes his skin crawl.

Ultimately nothing comes of it, but even when they leave Knauss doesn’t settle down. Like the ocean before a storm, the room feels electric. He fully intends on waiting safely in his cave until the torrid seas pass.

The boss comes back the next day, and they are still with the strange human is back. They’re both chattering and laughing. They circle his tank once, the stranger has a slab of wood with a paper they’re writing things on. Knauss resists the urge to fidget, forcing himself to remain utterly still.

“And it doesn’t come out at all?” The stranger sounds skeptical when they pass by Knauss’ cave.

“Not often, I’ve had a few staff members claim to have seen it though, and I believe it will be more than sufficient for any of your company projects. It’s plenty big enough,” the boss assures.

They chatter some more about things that Knauss doesn’t fully understand. Words like tests and experiments.

“You’re going to have to get it out of that cave if you want this to work,” the stranger says “Can’t get any samples if it’s hidden inside all the time. We would have liked something for our documents this time.”

“Of course you'll get your chance. We will have a solution ready the next time you visit, but I’m sure you understand these things are delicate.”

“I’ll pass that on. In the meantime, it has been a pleasure meeting with you, Mr. Michaels, I would like to thank you on behalf of the Institute for your time and hospitality. We will be in touch.” Then the men shake their hands and they’re gone.

Knauss just feels sick to his stomach. He rolls over and tries to forget.

*

The next morning the staff don’t come in when his LED switches over to blinding white and they don’t dump fresh fish into his tank. It’s not too unusual. Sometimes when he didn’t eat as often the staff wouldn’t come by for days on end, but this time it’s strange because he did eat last night. And the night before.

He doesn’t think too much of it. He just marks it down as another human quirk and goes on with his day. That night he catches five fish to eat.

The next day the humans still don’t come by, and then the day after that. It’s starting to get strange when the school of fish normally swarming his tank dwindles to just a handful.

The speckled brother doesn’t visit him this week either.

It takes two more days for him to realize exactly what's going on and by then he's already eaten half of his fish supply. As punishment he doesn't eat the rest of the week. The humans are trying to starve him out of his den forcefully and he's not dumb enough to fall for it.

But even when he cuts back to two fish every few days the harm is already done. His stock had already taken such a blow, he figures he could last maybe another couple of weeks. Give or take a bit.

One morning he's woken up by the sound of humans banging around and making a ruckus. For a split second he almost peeks out, his stomach is wringing itself out. He can't see what they're doing just feet above him and it stresses him out.

That night when he warily makes his way out of his den his fears are confirmed.

There are no fish left in his tank.

Frantically he swims around, looking for anything they could have missed. Maybe a fish had gotten stuck in the coral, or hidden itself under a rock, or anything. He’s breathing fast when he turns over everything in his den, eyes wide and heart racing. There’s nothing in this tank except for him
.
Knauss floats in the open water, lost. What does he do now? What is there to do next?

When he can’t think of anything he puts his rocks back into place after he had so frantically thrown them all over the sand. His body is numb. He looks out at the empty room that the brother hadn’t returned to since before the boss had visited and he suddenly feels very, very alone.

His breathing slows and he looks upwards to the top of his tank, eyes locked on the way the purple light dances off the calm water. It moves languidly, not betraying the turbulence hidden just beneath.

For the first time since he’s started his nightly routine, hunger pangs from a few days of not eating already clenching his gut, he returns to his cave early. He falls asleep before the soft purple light switches over to the white LED.

*

The humans wait a bit longer before they return and Knauss can barely force himself awake, he’s always so tired these days. Last week he stopped going out nightly to conserve energy, and now he spends most time in his den curled around the hollow space in his stomach. Protecting it from the vicious pain that lances through him.

When the boss returns he wakes sluggishly. His eyes hurt against the too-bright light shining off the white sand.

“You know we were surprised to see your call. My superiors were unsure if you were still interested in our offer,” a voice says. It's the same voice from before. He tries to remember the human’s face but he all he can remember is a wire contraption on a pointed nose.

“My apologies, you know these things take time,” the boss replies, slimy charm dripping from his words like fish oil. Knauss can hardly bear to listen, their voices are loud and ring in his ears.

His stomach tightens suddenly, wracking his body with a vicious shudder that makes him miss the next things the humans say. In his long life he’s never been as hungry as he is now.
So hungry he can’t see straight.

Above he can hear the sound of heavy feet going upstairs to the second level of his tank, humans chattering the whole way. Talking about things that don’t make sense to him and he almost rolls over until he hears it.

The splash is loud in his ears and he’s already out of his den before he can remember not to, snatching the fish and scarfing it down as quickly as he can before he even realizes he’s being watched. He darts back into his cave but above he can hear laughter.

“Well that’s one way of doing it, Mr. Michaels,” the stranger is laughing. If he wasn’t desperate to keep down his small meal he thinks he would be sick, “How long have you kept it like this?”

“Long enough for you to have time to do your work, I hope,” the boss replies with good humor.

“Of course. I should be able to take it from here, thank you.”

“If you need anything just ask Miles, he will be happy to help you,” the boss says before making his way down the stairs to leave.

Knauss hadn’t even noticed that there were more than just these two humans here, but upon checking his memory he despairs in realizing that there had been another human standing by the door, a servant. His stomach wails it’s hunger.

“Alright now,” the human says, “just you and me now. I think we’re going to be good friends, don’t you agree? I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

Above the human continues to chatter but Knauss is much more focused on the sound of another splash. He can’t stop himself from racing out to grab the morsel, quickly shoving it into his mouth and returning to his den. It’s barely anything to his empty stomach, a drop in an endless ocean of hunger, but it’s better than nothing.

“That’s a good boy,” the human continues to coo. Knauss hates their voice.

Two more minnows are dropped in and he takes them back to his den. He will have to survive with this, because he will not be going back out with humans here.

Even when three more drop in he doesn’t move, pushed back against the rocks. Above he hears a low whistle.

“Aren’t you hungry, boy? It must have been weeks since your last meal,” the human coaxes. It has been weeks since his last meal, but he would starve before degrading himself like this.

Then there’s a hefty splash of something more substantial than a minnow and he’s peeking out against his better judgement. His stomach twists hard at the sight of a salmon. It’s been a long time since he’s had anything but the sweet meat of the brightly colored reef fish the humans normally drop in his tank.

He bites his cheek hard enough to draw blood against the urge to swim out, but the fish swims so close, skimming it’s plump belly on the white sand and he’s already drifting out into open water.

Jerkily, it tugs upward towards the surface and, mesmerized, he follows. It’s so close to his reach, just a little bit further and - he breaks the surface of the water.

“Aha!” the human barks triumphantly and Knauss doesn’t have the chance to swim downwards when a rope tightens on his throat.

Hissing, he thrashes, salmon forgotten as he battles against the noose.

“Now, now, calm down,” the human is saying through gritted teeth, fighting hard to keep him at the surface, “It’s okay, you dumb animal, calm down I just need a blood sample!”

Knauss continues to thrash, matte tail smacking against the glass loudly as he’s being pulled halfway out of the water. His hands scrabble at his throat, trying to relieve himself of the pressure but his dull, terrible nails cannot tear through the rope and he starts to panic.

He’s being captured again.

Suddenly he’s being taken away from his family. Away from his cold waters and his dark, rocky hunting grounds and he doesn’t want to be taken away again.

With renewed vigor he throws himself back with a desperate swoop of his tail and just like that he and the human both are falling back into his tank.

Frantically he pulls at the rope, tugging it off of his head and sucking in a deep breath of salty water. In his tank the human is thrashing wildly to get to the surface but suddenly he feels dangerously cold. Even without his claws he hooks his fingers into the human’s leg, tugging him down, down.

For the first time in weeks his stomach isn’t screaming empty hunger, but rather it is full. Cold, icy fury swells in his chest and he looks into the screaming human’s eyes. They roll in their sockets, white and wide.

A cloud of bubbles burst from their lungs as they inhale too much water. They are becoming frantic, but Knauss just cradles them to his chest like a mother to her fearful bull. His gaze, sharp as ice, stares calmly back into the red faced creature and he feels nothing.

Then he does what he hasn’t in almost a year, Knauss opens his mouth and he sings.

His voice is beautiful and terrible and he sings a song of a lost whale cub drifting at sea. They are scared and tired and they just want to rest, so he tells them to rest.

The human’s eyes widen in panic, their body struggles less and they blink wearily.

Outside his tank he hears screaming and the sound of loud human feet stomping around, but he can’t see anything except the human going limp in his grip. He offers them more slack, pulling back to gaze at their blue cheeks in a parody of intimacy, watching their animal eyes slip closed.

They do not reopen.

Outside his tank he hears nothing, no scurrying feet, no panicked yowling, and when he offers a blase glance around he sees a pack of no less than seven humans herded around his tank. Their bulging eyes stare, fear so heavy it stinks up the entire room, but he doesn’t flee.

He waits a beat, staring back, and then he lets the body sink away. After, he goes to grab the salmon and returns to his den. His stomach isn’t empty by nightfall.