A SIREN IN SPRING

I'd be lying if I said the past few weeks hadn't changed me. Carle was rubbing off on me and there was no denying that. I thought more often about how it would be easy to just have anyone do as I wished, or how I could be of greater help. How I could conduct a school of mackerels by swimming thoroughly and having him cast his net. But I wouldn't do that to Mr Silvan. I wanted to keep this budding state of affairs apart from him, apart from Dylan and his grandmother, apart from everyone I knew. I would become more like Carle in a place where I wasn't known.

We met up for swims though not as often as Carle desired. First, I was put off by the fact that he left letters at my windowsill, fearing that Mr Silvan would see them. But when he persisted I gave up and just checked if there were any new ones in the evenings after work. Carle had made it his goal to convince me to "let my true form out." He'd meant my hands; he wanted desperately to see them. But I would not give in.

I slipped in one of his letters from a drawer when I was bored one afternoon and had not been so busy. His handwriting was cursive, neat and practiced, a testament to the time he had spent among land-dwellers. It read:

The Hedakers are prepping for a fishing spree this coming summer, which would be exactly two weeks from the day I deliver this letter. It's going to be an exploit with the whole family present and is going last days. I am taking care of some other business, Yara, and won't be able to intercept this endeavour. I trust you to thwart the Hedaker's plan in my stead. I'd understand if you cannot.

Best,

Carle.

Carle had chucked the letter through my window about three days ago and this was my third time reading it. At first, it felt like a ridiculous ask. I wasn't going to intercept anything and certain as rain wasn't going to hijack any Hedaker yacht. The Hedakers was a family who privately-owned a portion of the beach. They had their own little estate in town surrounded by birch trees and tall groves nearly scraping the sky. I think they had major investment in Ver Mon Lagho after Sir Adolphus Fillard and his ilk had abandoned it, and so had major influence in the town. In fact, the sheriff of our town—the one that had suggested I be wound up in a foster home—was married to a Hedaker. With the recollection of all these little details I was discouraged all the more.

What other business did Carle have to see to? I pondered on the technicalities. There was no way I could get into the Hedaker abode, at least no way without my voice. Summer was coming, so was the sickness. I would neither be efficient nor of sound mind. Also destroying a yacht and later escaping from a place where security was tight would be next to impossible. And honestly, I didn't have that much personal bond with sea animals. Yes, I was building up emotional connections to the larger and more relatable ones, but a fishing spree wasn't unheard of. The Hedakers would probably fetch a sizeable haul of fish and contribute to the community or whatever. Most likely those would be smaller fish and Carle had stated earlier that he was fine with those. Or was it because it was going to be a spree?

I recalled Carle's saddened expression when we made small talk about the culture behind fishing. He didn't seem to like the idea at all, and perhaps pretended that he was fine with the consumption of the tinier ones to not make me feel guilty.

I gave myself the leeway then. No I wouldn't attack the Hedakers, but yes, I would just think up a scheme and imagine myself sabotaging them. But nothing beyond that. I half-covered myself with my sheets and looking up at the ceiling, I tried remembering every little thing I knew about the Hedakers. The Hedakers were not a social family. They kept to their own space, did not come out for town festivals or anything like that. I only knew the face of the family head because he had featured in a local newspaper for donating several thousands to Ver Mon Lagho. According to Dylan the idea that the Hedakers were running some fraudulent scheme and used the town whenever they wanted to lay low wasn't entirely foreign.

That was about everything I knew. In the imagined scenario where I decided to do something about the Hedakers, I had no knowledge of the security detail. Heck, I didn't know anything of how it looked within the walls. Even if I wanted to help Carle there was no feasible means.

But... but... Ver Mon Lagho was a touristy place. I was sure if I checked Mr Silvan's room I would see a guidebook or pamphlet with a map or something. Nevertheless, I wasn't going to do that as I had no intention of breaking and entering any place.

I was conflicted throughout the rest of the day, rolling in bed and turning over my pillow till I fell asleep. To help Carle or not? The following morning I awoke and spoke the anthem preceding every bad idea: "Just this once."

I sprinkled water on my face to make certain I wasn't dreaming. Mr Silvan had gone to fish and I'd be going soon to help him. I had about thirty minutes before that and that was more than enough time to do what I needed. I entered his room, checked cartons where he stacked old magazines and papers, reached out beneath his bed to find a set of old fishing books and some handwritten notes. I didn't bother to read the notes as that was Mr Silvan's private business. So far, I found nothing that hinted at a map. Then I opened his wardrobe. A large book was sticking out from the uppermost section. After a few failed attempts to get it, I spied a stool perfect for reaching there and felt stupid. It was a photo album of a younger Mr Silvan. He had attended school in the city and seemed to always be amongst friends. Something tragic must have happened to Mr Silvan when he was still younger. Before me, he spent most of his time alone and though he had a friend in Dylan's grandmother it was mainly work that brought them together. I snapped out of the distraction of Mr Silvan's old pictures, checked the back of the album and finally found a pamphlet in a little pocket of the leather cover.

The pamphlet had map printed out at the back of it but much of it was faded. I strained my eyes in an effort to learn anything about the Hedaker's estate. I traced with my fingers and just before i reached the route to the estate, it was cut off. It had been done on purpose. The Hedakers wanted to keep their property out of maps therefore most issued maps would not have them. I could only think of Dylan as my next option. He always knew something about these things but even he would be astonished at my curiosity.

It would be one week before I saw Dylan for the monthly fair. I wouldn't implicate him just ask him what he knew and if his grandmother had a map. That whole week I was frantic, switching between breaking into the Hedaker estate and leaving it alone. Carle had mentioned in his letter that he would be fine if I did not bother.

Market fair day came; I saw Dylan and just went with it. No matter how I lied to myself, I wasn't changing my mind. I wanted to do it, not for some grudge against the Hedakers, not for the baloney of wanting to please Carle. I wanted to do it for myself, Carle had roused an excitement in me. The kind where I understood that I was now invincible and just had to test the limits. So, no matter how I told myself that I was only attracting trouble, there was no quelling that excitement.

I caught Dylan when his grandmother was out of sight, sat across from him and looked as serious as I could.

"Did you see that cat over there? The one on Miss Trauss' awning."

I turned around to check. "The white and grey?"

"I think it's pregnant," Dylan said.

I shook my head lightly. "I need your help, Dylan."

"That's a first. You never ask me for anything."

"I need a map of Ver Mon Lagho."

"There are maps of the town plastered everywhere. In fact, the sheriff will give you a free one if you ask."

I lowered my voice as I said, "I need one with the Hedaker's estate printed on it."

Dylan's eyes widened. He brushed hair from his face, leaned in and asked, "Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine." I restored my voice to normalcy. I wanted to avoid a conspiratorial tone. "I just need it to check something."

"You are never this curious or this desperate." He leaned in even closer. "I can help you, you know."

"Dylan. I am genuinely curious. I just want to know the town better and help out Mr Silvan in any way I can."

Dylan sat up, put on a nonchalant face and spoke, "The Hedakers own private land and can request that their property be unlisted or blurred from maps. They probably pay a bribe too. Again the sheriff is the only person you will find with an unabridged map. You'd somehow have to steal it from him."

Funny how I was already entertaining the possibility of going to the station to steal a map before Dylan added, "But..."

I searched his face again.

"But," he repeated, "I have friends in school that are always up for a good treasure hunt."

"Treasure hunt?"

"Like finding stuff that are hard to find."

"Thank you, Dylan."

He avoided meeting my eyes and said casually, "Meet me tomorrow night at Greyheard's Coffee. I can't tell you the exact time I will arrive with the map but trust that it would be before midnight."

After my trash picking at the beach the next day, I ran straight to Greyheard's. I had written a letter for Mr Silvan, excusing myself till midnight. Midnight seemed too extreme so I added that I was at Greyheard's with Dylan if he wanted to come looking. I waited in dire anticipation, sat a corner and picked up a menu to read like a book. My hair too was covered but anyone who usually saw me would know who I was by attire alone. I dressed much like Mr Silvan after all. There was a clock hanging on the wall. I watched it pass six, seven, eight. Still, no Dylan. In truth I expected him to be very late and had no trouble being patient.

Nine. Ten. One slender girl wearing the logo of the coffee place approached me.

"'Scuse me, ma'am. But we are closing up now."

I did not raise my head, just slid out of the seat and lingered outside. I couldn't check the time again but I was sure it was almost eleven. Eventually, I saw someone approaching me from a corner. All in black, face covered and hands gloved. The siren thing didn't let me fear be my first instinct, I just hoped it was at last Dylan.

The figure raised the ski mask and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was Dylan.

"Thank you so much," I said.

He handed me a folded paper. I couldn't hold it from end to end when I unfolded it as it was too large.

"This is too big. You should have just cut out Hedaker's part or something?"

"So if you are caught, they can trace it back to us?" There was a harshness in Dylan's remark.

I understood his anger given that I was keeping him in the dark. "You will not believe even if I do tell you, Dylan."

"Try me."

"I am sorry." And indeed I was sorry. I bowed my head and walked away. There were some lines I wouldn't dare crossing. No way I was bringing Dylan into this. No way Dylan was ever meeting Carle.