XVIII. Part of the Act

They would be okay. Cleo believed they would be okay. Although they were thousands of miles from their home, their country, and even their friends in captivity, they had each other. She told herself the same thing each day—each hour on the harder days—so that she wouldn't lose heart.

Lewis kept in good spirits, or at least he, like Cleo, did his best to put on a brave front for the other. They knew without saying how much they were hurting.

Neither one of them tried to convince the park staff that they were captives. Denman was almost always near, with at least two burly men on either side of her. She seemed to dare them to misbehave, and they knew it wasn't worth the risk.

The first day on the job was the worst. Cleo started with a shift in the children's section of the underwater experience. She was meant to wave and smile in condescending cheerfulness, much like the princesses at Disneyland, which she had only ever heard about, but the sight of the happy families strolling by, holding hands and acting so blissfully unaware of how cruel life could be made her cry. She begged Denman to forgive her, and said that given the chance she could do it right. She still wasn't expertly beaming at the kids, but children fed off their own excitement at seeing a real, live mermaid, and Denman was appeased so long as there were no complaints from the guests. The parents hardly seemed to notice whether the mermaid was smiling enough. They were fascinated, but mostly ignored her in favour of believable facts concerning puffer fish, eels, and great whites. Except for one man with a group of special needs children who stopped halfway down the tunnel to look Cleo in the eye.

It was a particularly hard day. A dolphin, newly rescued and unsure about the rest of the pod, trained and used for sport had taken interest in her. Perhaps before all of this had happened she would have thought its playful nudges and taps with its tale a cute show of affection—a crush—but now she felt hassled, as if it was rooting about for a mate. And she gave it another shove even as she tried to stem the tears that could never fall in the salty water of her prison.

And she thought she had hidden her distress well enough, not wanting to risk Lewis's safety because of an overly friendly dolphin. But despite her efforts, this man continued to look at her; not with idle curiosity or amusement like all the others, but with a sad empathy, as if he considered she might not be fully willing to be there. His expression was so distraught, that Cleo felt compelled to offer him a half smile and wave. He returned the small smile, and glanced back once before urging his group of little ones onward.

Cleo thought she might have seen him before, but couldn't place where. A lot of people looked familiar these days as each passerby reminded her of someone back home. She knew she was seeing what she wanted to see, but at the same time, she thought this man was different.

She told Lewis about the incident, after they were reunited in the locked trailer where Denman kept them in a giant pool. It was the most uncomfortable housing conditions they'd experienced yet, but since it meant time together, they never complained.

Lewis didn't think too much of the exchange. "He was probably just sad to see a depressed theme park worker."

"No, I'm pretty sure it was more than that. He was leading a group of special needs kids around."

"Sounds like he's a really nice guy who cares about people."

"I don't know..." Cleo trailed off, settling into Lewis's side. "I just thought maybe if he knew... he might help us."

"Cleo..." she knew that tone. He was about to warn her not to get carried away. "If we get the chance, away from Denman, away from her 'muscle men,' of course I want to escape, but please don't do anything unnecessarily risky. If you tell anyone about our problem and they don't believe you, not only would it mean more trouble for us, but what do you think Denman would do to him if she found there was a potential squealer?"

Cleo pouted. "Okay, but still... maybe they'd be careful."

"You know what I love about you?" Lewis said, kissing her temple suddenly.

"What?" she giggled.

"That even after all this time, you still have faith in people."

She took a long breath. "I have to believe this won't change us for the worse. We can't become like the sirens I saw in that tank. But Lewis... I don't think I could go on believing without you to help me."

"You would. I know you would."

He continued to kiss her; sweetly, gently, first making trails down her face, and then her lips, down towards her neck, and soon all chance encounters with kind strangers were forgotten through his ministrations.

That is, until a week later when the man returned.

He was without a posse of children this time, but carried a pad of paper, and a black marker.

Can I help you? He scrawled on the pad, holding it up for her to see.

Cloe's heart stuck in her throat and it threatened to burst. Her eyes went wide, and she nodded furiously.

Police?

No, no, she shook her head.

What is your name?

Cleo made shapes with her hands until he deciphered her full name, and then he busied himself for a while, drawing on the pad. He pointed to a rough depiction of a world map, indicating he wanted her to tell him where she was from. She pointed to Australia. He pointed to himself and mouthed, "Me too!"

Are you the only one? he wrote.

No.

You and the guy in the pirate show? The one who plays Triton?

She nodded yes, and with her combination of finger spellings and headshakes, he was able to work out Lewis's name, as well.

I'm a doctor. I live on the Gold Coast. I'll try to help you—no police! he added hastily before showing her the paper.

Cleo gave him a genuine smile, and he was gone before she could try to spell another word.

She was elated, and ready to relate the news to Lewis. But as soon as the shows were over, Denman had them locked in the portable crates that meant moving on.

"Where are we going?" Cleo asked hoarsely, knowing the chances of the kind man finding them help and rescue were now depressingly slim.

"It seems your friends have been very stupid," Denman seethed under her breath. "I have to return and see if any of my life's work is still able to be salvaged. I obviously can't trust to leave you two here or anything could happen."

She lowered her voice and muttered to herself, "It was a mistake to leave."

-x-

Everything was gone. Destroyed. Shattered.

The entire crew was dead; their bodies scattered about the facility in groups of two to four. Sometimes a stray corpse was discovered in a lonesome corridor or laboratory, and the smell of burnt flesh and stagnant water followed them with every turn. The paper files were piles of ash; the computers looked as if someone had taken a flame thrower and a baseball bat to them. The tanks were empty of every living thing, except the plants, which were quickly dying in the polluted water; with the systems down, there was nothing to keep the filters going, and the fungus was rapidly spreading. It smelled like a swamp, and the mosquitoes were in heaven.

It was criminal; the cruel destruction of so many years of work and research, but who could she go to for justice? There was no one to trust that wouldn't bring her down with criminal charges. And as long as she had the two remaining breeders with her and their friends free to talk, they were a way to track her down. She could only start over. Wipe the slate clean, collect some Mako Island water samples, and see if the world had another moon pool to offer.

But first things first. She had to be rid of the targets leading the volatile one with powers right to her.

Denman stood over them, still tightly secured in their crates, and barked to the man beside her.

"Put them on the speedboat."

DUN. DUN. DUUUUUUUUN.

Sorry. I just couldn't help myself. :P