Chapter Seven:
Salty Dog
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This time, the pull didn't stop for Sam for 87 years.
He had honored his parent's death again when he'd turned older than both of them. They said they were in their seventies, if he remembered right, and he was currently in his very late 90's. He was the longest living member of their little family and he hated it. He didn't feel as strong as they were in his memories and he was disappointed in himself for never finding the floating things that took his parents away.
He saw plenty of those vessels on the ocean floor but his memories were so fuzzy now for those specific floating things, he couldn't tell anymore if these were the same ones or not. They looked fatter than the ones before, with many strange metal and wooden containers strewn about of all different colors but the same basic rounded shapes with flat ends. Sometimes he'd run into a freshly sunken one and see and taste things that seeped out of the containers. It made his head feel fuzzy so he never stuck around for long. Burying them in sand and rocks kept the foul clouds of liquid and things from spreading. He felt the need to protect the areas from contamination. Making it a point to bury nearly every formerly floating thing to keep the area clean whenever he ran across one in his travels. It's not like the local wildlife can move several tonnes of sand and rocks to cover them up so he would take a day and help them out. If nothing else, it gave him something to do, and he felt better afterwards.
His nomadic lifestyle kept him moving. Hardly ever venturing close to the surface. Every time he did, he became immensely depressed. Thinking about his childhood and what he'd lost due to being close to the surface. So he decided to only go up and take a look at the lighter waters twice a year. There was no reason to spend every waking moment looking for a floating thing that probably sank decades ago. He was learning that the ocean is a mighty big place and the odds of finding his parent's murderers were slim to none. He had no way of knowing how long those things would last, but he's seen enough now to know that nothing lasts forever. His kind lives longer than most, so he's already had experience watching the 'indestructible' fade and crumble.
In that long time since the pull started till ending nearly 90 years later, he had actually found another Pod of Merpeople a few years back. Alleviating some of his perpetual loneliness.
He had been on his own for so long that the Pod elders were extremely wary of him. For what reason - he didn't know at first, just they were pretty damned insistent that he leaves them alone. Several started to swim protective circles around the smaller, younger ones as if Sam was going to attack. They weren't outright hostile, but if they felt threatened enough, they could easily kill Sam. He was just one facing a whole Pod alone. They were more scared than anything so Sam knew not to push right now, and agreed to give them space.
With a sad heart, he had left for a few days. He couldn't stay gone forever though, his need to connect with someone couldn't be ignored. Not now that he FINALLY found his own kind out here in the vast ocean. He'd never met any of his kind outside of his family and was entranced at the diversity and behavior they showed in that brief meeting. So many sizes, shapes, and colors of Merpeople. He had to see more, to just talk to his own kind. To connect. His mind was buzzing with all the possibilities and refused to let it go.
Maybe Sam could even find someone special to bond with? That thought came out of nowhere and he couldn't say he opposed it. Latching onto the idea with a white knuckled grip. It would be wonderful to not be so alone.
Sam trailed behind the Pod when they moved to a new location. No doubt trying to distance themselves from where they'd met the over 80 ft long stranger. Sam felt that he could win them over if he could learn more about them and their ways. He had to admit, he was a little rusty on how Mers should act around others. So Sam set about watching and listening in on their conversations out of sight and hidden. Staying down current from them to hide his scent and presence better. His mind whirling and clutching at the chance to learn something new again.
Something called a 'humans' had hunted all the fish in their old living area and the Pod was down several members. There had been a stench in the water apparently, and several of them got sick after eating the few remaining fish in the area.
Something about a blight had hit the surviving Merpeople and now that he was looking closer at them, he saw the circles of dark scale rot on their tails and fins. Never realizing that it wasn't just their normal spots and colorization.
At that first meeting, he hadn't noticed the spots of scale rot because he was just so shocked to see others of his own kind. Sam feels a little guilty but, he's kinda glad they drove him away now. Sam had a brief bout of mild fin rot in his thirties and did not want to go through that again. Besides, this blight looked like it was far more extreme. Covering large swaths of area on a few of them, and only a few speckles on others.
Sam still followed along at a much larger, safer, distance. Silently trailing after the Pod for a few months and feeling a sense of calm come over his mind at the closeness. He was spotted a few times, but no one dared to go talk to him directly. Fear or something else entirely, he didn't know.
The elders warned their own against meeting with him again and again. A few of the teens and 20 something Merkids would rebel against the orders in small ways, conversing much louder than normal about where to find good food when he was noticed nearby or about anything they thought he'd like to hear. Everyone knows that loners go crazy and they didn't want that for him.
It helped Sam, more than he knew at the time. His whole being felt calmer, happier. Resetting him back to normal. He wished he could converse back, but settled for hand signals and gestures when no one else but them were looking.
Sam dared call them friends even if they all kept their distance. Sam sometimes would swim ahead of the Pod and leave gifts for them in conspicuous areas. Too small for the elders to notice but not for the Merkids. A pile of large flat rocks forming a cave for them to explore, or a freshly killed shark for them to dine on. Little things that were easy for him to set up and move back and watch them find. It amused him and he waited for them to look around at the horizon before spotting him and giving a friendly wave. He could see that their lives were getting rough, and wanted to make them happy in any way he can without adding stress to the sick ones. If he was found out, no doubt they'd panic and think he was setting up a trap when that couldn't be farther from the truth. Sam had to be sneaky to be kind.
However, when he witnessed the elders start to die, one by one, he felt like he was intruding on them. He wanted to help the elders too, but with scale rot - there was nothing they could do. It was a horrible disease that kills the Merperson slowly and painfully. If they didn't heal themselves, they would die. He finally noticed that there were no young hatchlings in the Pod at all, and after creeping closer to overhear a few more conversations, knew now that they died first. It wasn't fair.
His few friends stopped venturing to the edge of the Pod to talk, growing weak very quickly. The spots covering nearly their whole bodies. He left more and more food gifts for them to run into, but saw that after just a few days, none of the food offerings were being taken. He swam around them several times when the Pod stopped completely. Sam was desperate for any sign of his friends. But sadly, the only clue he saw was a line of small piles of disturbed sand, surrounded by smooth colorful rocks that hadn't been there before.
Sam was devastated.
He left them alone for a few days, trying to come to terms with how cruel the ocean was for taking the children. His friends. It wasn't fair. They were just kids!
Sam figured out what he wanted to say, returning again to give condolences, only to find only a couple of them left. Muttering and rambling to themselves as their fins shed blackened scales into the ocean waves and small fish ate what drifted their way. Scratching at themselves to get rid of the sickness but only making it worse and worse. The bodies of the rest of the Pod were only half buried in the sand, as if the remaining two even forgot how to do that. Or maybe the surviving Mers just ran out of strength to move enough sand to cover them all. Fish were starting to swarm the area and drawing in a few predators as well. So far, the predators were ignoring the last two sick Mers, in favor of easier meals.
Sam couldn't swim around waiting for their turn to come next. They were too far beyond his help. He didn't have it in him to kill them either. Even if it would be a mercy, he might get infected too. The sickness didn't care who it came for, and he hated himself for thinking of himself first, but, it was the truth. He wasn't suicidal, and those two didn't seem to even be conscious of their own actions. Too far gone. Practically dead already.
Sam nearly threw up at the sight.
Too horrible for words.
Remembering how his own family were eaten by fish, he fled the area that night.
Screaming at the injustice of it all. No one deserved to die like that. For the whole Pod to die like that. He couldn't even risk burying the dead because there was no telling if he'd get sick being that close to the dead. He had to leave and he hated himself for it. A part of him hoping that one day he'll be forgiven for his actions, but knowing that unless he finds someone else, he was the only one out here to do the forgiving. And that was not something he could do. Maybe not ever.
He was tempted to try and find another Pod, but after the tragedy that hit that other one, he was scared that he would somehow spread it to the new one. If he was immune to it himself, but still carried it within him. He had to keep himself distant to save others until he was certain that this version of fin rot didn't transfer from them to him.
He'd seen a lot in his years, and even spent a bit of time studying a small group of starfish out of boredom once. A similar blight hit them and he noticed that one was fine but all other's that contacted it became sickly looking. He didn't have a name for it, but that event stuck with him through the years. Pitying the healthy one that couldn't interact with any of it's own kind. He forced himself to kill it as well as the sick ones to keep it from spreading the disease any further.
It took him a little while to realize that this sort of thing happens all the time, and that knowledge came in handy now. He wouldn't risk spreading this blight to others. Feeling like that little starfish, all alone. How it might be better off for other Merpeople if he's left all alone. A few years pass with him sequestering himself away from the area he guessed the Pod came from and where they went. Making damn sure that the disease would die off without any new Mers to infect. Time seemed to move faster, tracked by the tides and temperatures of the water, the migrations of animals.
When the pull had stopped after those 87 long years from it's start, he took it as a sign that it was all over for him as well. All those other times that the pull started and stopped, might have been just because he was still growing. But now, he was just over a hundred feet long. And roughly100 years old. There was no reason for the pull to suddenly stop now. He must have gotten the sickness from that Pod and it just took longer for him to show the effects.
He found a nice quiet place to rest and waited for the fin rot to finally take hold, but thankfully it never did. He waited another week before moving on, just in case. Checking his fins obsessively for weeks after that.
Two months after the pull ended, it was right there again. Shorter wait time this time around made him question if he really did loose it to begin with, or if he had been sick after all, and the sickness had dulled the sensation until he was well again. Either way, Sam was happy to feel it. He'd been spending his days in the deep, eating what ugly monsters he could to survive. Meat was better for his body than kelp even though it was the plant life that sustained his body for most of his life. He was trying to stave off his worry that he really was sick and would relapse eventually. It took a bit of time, but when it stayed strong and healthy, he felt he could relax. He resumed his trek around the ocean.
Learning the habits of each areas local sea-life helped pass the time. They were very small compared to his 100 ft length, so he learned to stay very still and wait for them to come to him as he laid on his belly to get as close to the ocean floor as possible. Resting his head on his folded hands on the ground. It was fascinating that it wouldn't take long at all for them to assume he was just another part of the ocean floor, like a smooth rock formation. It was anyone's guess what they thought of the mysterious water flow from him breathing in through his nose and out his gills on the sides of his neck. The tiny creatures resumed their lives like he wasn't watching.
Crustaceans and small fish sometimes would swim or climb right up to his eyes and it took all his willpower not to flinch back from their tiny forms. They scattered when he couldn't help but blink and disrupted the water around them. He huffed a laugh at their antics but frowned when that scared off the rest of the little ones. He sighed and stretched his tired muscles and settled in again for another day of relaxing and watching them as entertainment. He wiggled a bit into the sand to help hide his form as best he could and let his eyes drift closed with his head resting on his hands again. He'd had a big supper of seaweed and was still full enough to laze about for a few days at least. Noticing that as he got older, the more sedate he was becoming. Shrugging to himself, life became less about struggling to survive and more to figuring out how to pass the time. Nothing could compare to his strength and intelligence save for other Merpeople, and he'd count himself lucky to have the company.
This time, the pull only lasted 8 years, and he's sad to see it go, but hopeful he'll have it soon. In the meantime, Sam was happy to watch the small animals, taking closer interest in them these last 8 years, as if he could sympathize with them a bit better.
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Dean felt warmth surrounding him but couldn't see or hear anything. He would have been scared at that, but he was too tired and content so he lay here and remained nestled in soothing warmth of wriggling bodies. Sometimes, something large would nudge at him until he was angled a new way and bathe him in saliva with a wide wet tongue. It took a minute to figure out that that was all it was because at first he was terrified he was going to be eaten alive again... what a weird thought.
He shied away from the tongue and meddling nose to rest peacefully, until the urge to find food became greater than his desire to just sleep. He was nudged and prodded until his body was facing something quite large and felt the familiar heat and scent coming from it. His nose was starting to figure out his limited world, blind and deaf as he was, and the scent of what he was quickly identifying with 'mother' was never far. Instinct drove him to find the nub that would give him some milk and quench his hunger.
He wasn't alone, feeling no less than four other bodies all crowd around him also going for their own nub to suckle on. It was strange, but, not unwelcome. If he had to exist without sight or sound, at least he wasn't alone. The large body was felt relaxing into the ground and he nursed from her until he was overstuffed. Wriggling and squirming away from the others to find a space for himself that wasn't churning warm bodies. Soon enough, he guessed that the others had the same idea, and he found himself in the middle of their pile. Sighing to himself at their insistence to being so close.
Sometimes he would feel much more narrow pokes and prods along his body caused by hands he guessed, even being picked up and away from the others to be turned around this way and that and touched all over. He couldn't hear his own cries but felt them all the same coming from his throat as he called out for his mother to save him.
Eventually, he felt himself being lowered again and retreated from where he thought the strange giants came from and found solace with his mother giving him another bath. He sensed one of his siblings being lifted up next and hoped that they'd return unharmed. Finding himself rasping a growl to the giants for stealing them away one at a time to terrify them before leaving them with mother again. He wriggled out and had to know if they were all safe and accounted for, counting them up and satisfied that they were all there and relatively ok. Nuzzling them towards mother's side again.
Days pass with the giants returning occasionally to pass he and his siblings around and eventually returning to mother's side. Large hands, small hands, cold, warm. Giants loved touching them all. For him, it was getting annoying but his siblings learned to love it.
After weeks, his eyes started to open and his ears could make out sounds beyond vibrations. Growls and yips mixed in with their high pitched whines. If he looked like his siblings, he now knew that he had triangle shaped ears that flopped over, and a black nose. He could now see his own fur and it was a mix of golden brown for most of the undersides of him, with black backs and long black noses. Looking up at mother showed what they will look like when they grow up and he was impressed with how big she actually was compared to not just him, but the giants. When she stood, she was half the giant's height, and if she got up on just her hind legs, she was actually taller than most of the giants that came by.
And boy did they come by. Giants of all shapes would come and coo at he and his siblings, grabbing one up at a time and prodding and poking them and making soft growling noises at other giants over their heads. He hid every time they came, terrified of what they could do to him. Eventually, he started to hear their speech and figured out what it was they were saying. Spending less time playing with his siblings and more time studying the dangerous giants. Names for things were coming easier for him to remember if he focused hard enough. The giants were called men. And his home was a pen off a little ways away from a busy street.
They were only a few months old when he saw his first sibling get grabbed up by a rough looking giant of a man and taken away far past their pen. He sat dumbfounded at the fact that his sister wasn't returned. He howled and whined and pawed at the door, desperate to escape all that he'd known and go rescue his sister. But all his attempts were for naught as she remained gone. His mother was sad but seemed to think that this was normal. He couldn't accept that and bit at the next hand that came after him. Growling and barking as viciously as he could so that no one else was taken away. Of course the giants were much stronger than him, and his siblings were gathered up in arms and gone before he knew it.
His attacks came more frequently, and even his mother started to reprimand him before the men could. Soon, he was the last pup standing and his temperament was as sour as ever. Growling at every single man that came by the pen. His mother was led away and never returned either. Left alone, he felt his resolve crumbling to dust. Whimpering in loneliness. Who was he supposed to protect now?
One day, a man came by and stopped in front of his pen, peering down at him with an appraising look. He'd seen it a thousand times and growled up at the man halfheartedly. The man laughed and made sounds with his mouth to entice him forward but he just growled louder and stood up, hackles raised and teeth bared. The giant wasn't deterred and if anything, seemed to take greater interest in him. Unlike all the others. The giant man got down on his knees and stuck his hand through the pen's slats and rubbed his rough fingers together.
He charged forward, eager to bite at the hand but stopped abruptly at the smell coming from him. Jaw wide open for the bite, he looked up and saw the startled face shift into one of kindness. He studied the face and there was something about it that was familiar to him. Like he'd seen this man before... for a long time. He tentatively licked the proffered fingers and heard a warm chuckle from the giant. Soon, the hand flipped around and ruffled his ears that were just starting to stick up on top of his head. His thick fur around his neck got a good scratching and he felt himself melt into the motions. Another giant man came by and started talking to the first and reached for him but he snapped out of the trance to growl and bark viciously at the newcomer.
He guessed that what he did was a good thing because his kind giant ruffled his neck again and sounded impressed and very happy with him. He was lifted up and brought to the giant's chest and pet all over. He felt warmth and love come from this man and after just a moment of worry, knew that he'd be safe with him and no longer alone.
The trip to his new home was in one of those huge black metal beasts and he was equally terrified of the sounds as well as the smells. But... he found himself entranced by how it all worked. Realizing that it wasn't actually alive, even though it moved seemingly on its own. Sniffing and trying to inch his way around it to inspect as much as he could within his limited reach. His man watched with mirth in his eyes and held him close by the scruff of his neck as they lurched and jumped in the metal non-beast towards home.
His new place was warm and smelled heavily of his man. He was left at the entrance to the huge den and cowered back from everything that towered over him. The man set food and water in a corner and chuckled at his scared form before lifting him up and bringing him to another spot in the den. Pushing his back until he sat down and peered up nervously all around him. He ate eventually when the man sat next to him and started to softly growl and coo at him.
"I think I'm gonna name you Dean." the man said to him as he nibbled at the dried chunk of meat. "My old mentor, Dean, was a little like you are, sometimes rough around the edges but fiercely loyal when he found someone he cared about. He also loved automobiles. He left me his life's work for designing automobiles, and I've been trying to figure out the best way to build his designs. It's tough work. He was always coming up with new innovations... I miss him. But I'm rambling to a dog. I don't know why you picked me, but I'm glad I picked you right back, Dean." The man grinned and ruffled his neck fur again. "I wasn't intending to get a Shepherd mutt today, so I hope you don't mind the old beef jerky. I'll pick you up some proper things tomorrow."
He understood a bit of what was being said but not nearly all. His man repeated the same word over and over with pats and scritches and he associated it to being a name. His name. Old and new at the same time. Hearing his man say it, sounded far more familiar than it should and he fell right into even thinking of himself as 'Dean'. He learned his man's name was Robert and that too sounded familiar but he couldn't say why.
It took a little while but Dean soon learned what it was that Robert wanted in a dog. At first it was companionship when he was home. And as Dean got larger and older, he was moved outside permanently, much to his disappointment. Dean was taught where Robert's territory lay and he determined by himself to protect it at all costs. It made Robert happy and got him an extra chunk of meat when he behaved well. Sometimes Robert would take him to 'work' and he found himself fascinated with all the large metal non-beasts that surrounded them. Smelling of oil and dirt and made his nose itch. He heard the name 'automobiles' often enough to associate them with the metal non-beasts and over the years got to see them evolve under Robert's clever fingers.
Dean grew older and felt his long years wear on his bones. Robert had taken him out less and less, leaving him to watch over the house while he was at work. There was a new pup added to the house and Dean was wary at first but learned that the runt wasn't going anywhere and decided to teach this young girl the ropes. Robert called her Daisy and she was smaller than him but eager to learn.
Dean was happy that he did such a fine job training her while he still could, and let her do the job while he watched from the wooden porch. Giving pointers and picking up the slack when Daisy wore herself out chasing after every person that walked by the fenced-in lot. Protecting all of the old automobiles and their rusting parts.
Dean felt tired more and more and Robert decided to bring him back inside the house full time. Retraining him how to behave inside. Didn't take long, Dean did not want to go back outside. He was 8 years old and that meant too old to be chasing automobiles around. The days were getting steadily colder to him, even if no one else seemed to notice. His body hurt to move too much and Robert spent more and more time by his side, propping him up on the couch while he read and worked on his papers. Dean picked up on the fact that Robert was doing quite well for himself, and noticed that his territory grew triple the size it had been when he was a young pup. Dean liked to think he helped with that, defending his property well enough to earn them more space.
Dean knew something was wrong when he couldn't move his body much without pain, and Robert was making all kinds of sad sounds. He tried reassuring his friend but attempting to lift his head hurt and he let out a pained whine. His friend left him on the couch for a short while and came back with a chunk of warm delicious smelling meat. Standing in the middle of the room, cradling it in his hands and crying softly.
Robert sniffled and finally let Dean have the meat in his hands and he ate it gratefully. While he was chewing on it, he tasted something different inside but there was no way he'd spit it out now. Freshly cooked meat that was still warm was a rare treat and he loved every bit of it.
Robert waited and watched him eat and when Dean was done, he hugged him tight and cried heavily, petting his fur and apologizing over and over to him. Dean didn't know what for, but felt himself getting a little sleepy. This was the best day he's had in a long time because his pain was going away, his best friend was right here and holding him tight, and he had a young pup outside that was even better at being a guard dog than he was. And he did that. He showed Daisy how to be a good dog and she was the greatest. Pride and peace washed over him and he loved this moment right here.
He felt his head getting fuzzy and a deep drowsiness come over him. A distant memory of something like this happening before. Something that meant... he was was going to be leaving Robert tonight. Dean was startled at the thought, the realization, and memory of dying before, and squirmed a little in Robert's tight grip. Dean angled his head up and saw the look of agony in Robert's eyes and hated seeing it. He didn't want that to be his last memory of his best friend so Dean nuzzled closer into the embrace and licked Robert's cheek with the last of his energy.
A sad smile crossed his friend's face and it all faded away. Dean knew that Robert would be ok, he still had Daisy to watch over him. He let his sorrow and worry go, and died in peace.