Catherina - day 9

On an average afternoon, my friends and I squatted on the front sand pool (which would be a lawn in other parts of the country) of my house to build sandcastles. In our town, sands belonged not to beaches – they fell everywhere. A few years ago, when we could hardly remember anything, several experts came and warned people of chronic pulmonary diseases. Since then, the town had shrunken – the more abled families had been moving away, while no new inhabitants came to replenish. Depopulated, our home grew barren like an aged man gradually losing all his teeth and only having wrinkles in return.

Therefore, it was to our surprise that a shimmering black car appeared at the end of the main street – its glazing reflection hurt our eyes too used to dust. As I recall that scene now, I would not suggest that car being any notable brand, but for us, three small-town kids who never traveled beyond the reach of sandstorms, it was a realized batmobile – slick, dark, and sandless.

All three of us followed the car until it turned a corner, disappearing from our sight. Through one of its half-lowered window, we saw a man – pale face and icy eyes.

“I wonder who they are.” The boy on my left had admiration written all over his face.

“Secret agents!” I could not hide my excitement – a black car and men with cruel expression– who else could they be?

“Or criminals.” The boy lowered his voice, putting too much effort into making an evil face, “Really, who wants to come here? Perhaps they had just robbed a bank!”

I was reluctant to admit that his words might contain a level of truth, and thus I returned to my work – a little block of sand with rectangular holes (which supposed to be windows) on it.

The girl on my right hadn’t talked, habitually. She was that kind of kid who seldom spoke and was often left out; however, since we three were the only kids around this age in town, we could not be picky. Suddenly, she spoke, with a slight hoarse touch to her voice, “they are just passing by.” She said so with such determination that the boy and I turned to look at her for a moment.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I…”

“Well, you must be wrong!” The boy almost jumped, and I, looking up from my sandcastle, shrilled at the sight of that returning car reappearing on the horizon.

The girl was silent for a moment, and then, she stood up and ran without giving a sign. We were shocked - that was all too unexpected.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” I shouted, standing up to follow her.

The girl did not answer; she was running faster than we had ever known – potential under adrenalin, as I later learned. After several sharp turns across the town, she led us (the boy merely catching up) into an old warehouse (forever unlocked because nothing valuable there) where we used to play dare games.

Hiding behind a rusty tractor, we curled ourselves into three imperfect balls. A few meters behind us was a side door, inconspicuous in the dark.

“Now, what’s the matter?” The boy whispered. “Why did you run?”

“Shh.” The girl didn’t answer, placing her index finger on her lips. She was listening.

We placed our finger on our lips as well, listening with her. Indistinct noise of speaking and walking was coming upon us, becoming unmistakable - they belonged to men. Were they the ones in that car?

“Are they coming for you?” I nudged the girl lightly - sweats on our arms blending into each other - and felt irritated crawling in the crowded space between the tractor and the wall.

“Yes…… they are bad people.” Frowning as she spoke, the girl went to reach for the side door’s handle, placing her hand upon it, “help me, please?”

Before I, or the boy, could answer, the unlocked front gate was kicked open. Men in black rushed in, and following them was that pale man we had seen, who wore a white suit.

“OMG, this is a movie.” The boy gasped at their presence, and immediately the men turned towards us.

“You, idiot!” The girl hissed at him, opening the side door and set for a run. I pulled the boy up, following her into the warehouse’s backyard.

Ever since memory began, we had been playing here. We knew by heart each obstacle created by the old farm tools that littered the yard – obstacles for kids like us, precisely. For those men who seemed to be coming from all directions (there were only four of them; however, considering they were double our height and width, their figure dominated our view), these were just negligible as pebbles.

To create a distraction and win some time for the girl, the boy ran for another direction. Ahead of us, the girl had jumped over the wooden fence around the yard – her athleticism shown at this moment astounded me, for she was always the slower and less enthusiastic one among us three!

I jumped over the fence as well, and from the corner of my eye, I could perceive some black shadows rapidly enlarging – the men were close (with our height being half of theirs, the fact that they had not yet caught us was truly unexpecting).

Tailing the girl, I ran into a narrow lane and immediately realized that it was an opening leading underground. In front of me was a stairwell, and I could see the girl already at its bottom. The stairway was dark, its wall out of stone, and the handrail conveyed a cold, metallic feeling. Before I had any time to make more detailed an observation, the group of men overtook me, the pale white (by which I meant the color of his suit, though he did seem to be Caucasian) man among them, as if they could not see me.

Yes, I ascertained that they could not see me for some unknown reasons. Squeezing the handrail, I bent over as if about to vomit, and again I did not know why.

I stayed in this pose for a while - to kill time, I suppose. At that moment, neither the boy nor the girl concerned me, which seemed unnatural afterward. After a short period, the men came up, and I gladly discovered that they did not have the girl. She escaped! Such an achievement -worthy of a hundred time of telling.

I leaned on the handrail for the men to pass by. Even though they could not see me, I worried my physical presence could betray me. I believed that I was still there, taking up space and air, despite being invisible to these men.

The men walked out of the stairwell, and I headed towards the opposite direction, my curiosity burning passionately more than ever. Consider a mysterious underground world that had been so close to you, and yet you had never been there! I hurried down the staircase and skipped the last few stairs – and a world of brass open up in front of me.

A colossal brass hall. Half of it hid in the darkness that I could not see through. Pipes and tunnels decorated the ceiling, from where a few brass chains dangling down, making this place resemble a factory. I looked around and saw no seam or traces of bolt – at least within my sight - meaning that this factory was forged out of one single piece of brass. A few steps in front of me laid a massive swimming pool, and I suspected it to be stretching as far as this hall went – by which I meant that I could only see half of it with the present light.

I walked towards the pool, the friction between the bottom of my shoes and the floor was queer, and it produced those creaky sounds, just like when one was walking on wet ceramic tiles in flipflops. On the edge of the swimming pool, the floor was dry – another curious sight – for the pool water was calm as dead.

Many things happened after that, mixing up my brain and playing tricks with my memory. When I opened my eyes again, I found my self sitting on yet another brass floor and immersing in the watery light.

Outside was water, and my intuition told me that I had come through that swimming pool and entered an underwater world. Now, where am I?

Looking up, rolls of dresses were dazzling under exhibition light, and two rainbow-colored, sequined fishtail skirts were framed in glass display cases on the wall. Based on these clothes, I suspected that I had entered a dress shop - an underwater one.

Splash, splash – the sound of fishes struggling, flapping water when they got caught. Then there came the sounds of chatting, high-pitched, girl’s voice. I panicked, throwing myself into a fitting room behind me and peeked through a seam between the curtain and the wall.

Two little girls and a lady (their mother, perhaps) entered with another lady in uniform, possibly a shop assistant. With rows of shimmering skirts blocking the bottom half of my view, I could only see their bosom-up.

“Mom! I want that tail！” One of the girls, who had blueberry-colored hair, shrieked upon seeing the rainbow dresses in the display cases.

“If she gets that one, I want the other!” The girl with brunette hair pointed towards the skirt closer to me.

“Oh, dear.” The mother turned to the shop assistant, “could the girls try the tails on?”

“Of course!” Rushing away - to get the key, as my intuition informed - the shop assistant flapped her tail, forming ripples in midair.

Wait – tail – what? If these mermaids (what else could I call a creature with a human upper body and a fishtail) were indeed swimming, then am I breathing in the water?

I attempted to look down – do I have a tail? Darkness, and I could see my lower body no more.

photo credit: https://www.grizzlyrose.com/wild-western-towns/