James Palmer - Shadows Through Time

Burton’s feet, already unsure in the uneven sand, went out from under him, and he scrambled to find his footing again. He missed the gentle slope, clumsy in the heavy boots. Burton wrenched his left knee as he went down hard, face first, into the dank muck.

“Bismillah!” he swore, his voice echoing inside the helmet. With considerable effort, he brought himself to his knees and looked around. He could see Captain Nemo ahead inspecting the strange ruins, but saw no sign of Challenger or Herbert, only the black lengths of their air hoses snaking into the gloom to Burton’s right.

Burton attempted to use the harpoon gun as a kind of crutch to help push himself to his feet once more, but it went off in his hand with a muffled hiss, sending the harpoon into the kelp forest. Propping his weight against the weapon, Burton was, at last, able to right himself, and looked around to get his bearings. He had indeed fallen down a slight precipice that Challenger had seen and navigated without calamity. “So kind of him to warn me,” Burton thought, as he moved in the general direction the zoologist had gone in search of their companion.

He found Herbert near a strangely glowing obelisk that rose more than ten feet out of the ocean floor. It was encrusted with some phosphorescent sea life. But that isn’t what so entranced the young inventor. Dancing there before him, undulating slowly in the water, floated some bizarre apparition. The blue glow coming off the obelisk gave it a ghostly appearance. Blue-green hair stood out from its head. Its white, diaphanous garments writhed in the water, hinting at a nakedness underneath. It’s face ensorcelled Burton. The apparition bore Isabel’s likeness!

“Isabel,” Burton murmured, lifting a heavy boot to take his first lumbering step closer. A powerful arm shot out of the dark, slapping into his chest. Burton’s helmet clanked with another impact.

“No,” said Challenger. “She is not what she appears.”

Burton twisted his torso to his right. Beside him, Challenger was already taking aim at the wraith with his harpoon gun.

“No!” Burton screamed. “Isabel.” Then his rational mind took hold. It couldn’t be Isabel. It was impossible for anyone to be down here without the survival gear they wore, let alone his beloved Isabel.

Herbert was reaching for her now, getting closer. She placed her long-fingered hands around his helmet, grasping it tightly. Burton and Challenger watched as she twisted it counterclockwise to loosen it.

“Herbert!” Burton cried, feeling useless.

Challenger’s harpoon hissed, the missile surging through the water toward the underwater apparition. It hit close to the wraith’s right shoulder, shredding her sparse garments before vanishing into the distance. She glanced in their direction, anger marring her otherwise perfect face—Isabel’s face.

Then it changed. What had once been a beautiful woman became hideous and fish-like. Its hands stretched into webbed talons, the flowing garments transmogrified into dark green scales. Only its hair remained, sea-green and writhing around its head like a halo of snakes.

It lunged at poor Herbert now, gripping his shoulders and shaking him as the poor fellow reached for his harpoon gun, which had fallen to the sea floor. Challenger bounded toward them, his long strides not getting him far due to his lead-filled boots. Burton took off after him, waving his arms in an attempt to get Nemo’s attention.

Challenger had taken his harpoon gun’s barrel in his hands to use it like a cudgel against the thing that tore at Herbert’s suit, rending the thick fabric and allowing water to get in. It was obvious to Burton that neither he nor Challenger could reach him in time.

Something flashed past Burton from the rear, almost knocking him down. The way it propelled itself through the water reminded him of a fish or dolphin, but its proportions were definitely those of a human. It collided with the vengeful wraith, knocking her off Herbert just as Challenger reached him. The big scientist hauled Herbert off the sea floor almost without effort and touched their helmets together as they watched the strange melee unfold.

The fish-things grappled with each other, spun around, before Herbert’s rescuer kicked the apparition in the chest, sending it sprawling away into the gloom. It did not return.

The other being turned and looked at Herbert and Challenger as Burton arrived next to them, panting and sweating inside his diving helmet. Nemo waited standing just off to Burton’s left, harpoon gun held down at his side.

The creature looked at each of them in turn, her big-lipped mouth opening and closing, expelling bubbles as she did so. Her scaly, pale green skin was unclothed. Her naked breasts bobbed like pale globes in the water. Burton recognized something strangely familiar about her.

“Miss Marsh?” he muttered.

She kicked hard, rising up and over them, swimming with great speed back toward the Nautilus .

When they had returned to the Nautilus and doffed their undersea diving suits, helmets and boots, Burton, Challenger, and a slightly sodden and frightened Herbert met in Nemo’s museum, where they sat on a long couch and enjoyed hot coffee. Burton drank the dark, rich, unmistakably Kenyan brew while appraising Nemo and the others. Poor Herbert had changed into dry clothes, but still shivered, more from fright than from the cold ocean depths.

“I believe,” said Challenger to Nemo, “you owe us an explanation.”

“Indeed, I do.” The captain of the Nautilus shifted in the wingback chair that sat opposite the couch. “I told you a half truth when I said we were going hunting. This kelp forest is an active hunting spot, but it was the ruins that interested me the most.”

“You should have told us,” said Burton.

Nemo glanced at him and said nothing.

“That-that woman,” said Herbert. “That thing. What was it?”

“That’s what I came here to find out,” said Nemo. “The ruins tend to bring them up from the depths. It was my intention to capture or kill one.”

“She looked like my fiancé,” said Burton, “Isabel. How is that possible?”

“They play tricks with the mind,” said Nemo. “But do not fall for their treachery.”

“What did you see, Herbert?” Burton asked.

“Something,” Herbert began. “Someone…impossible. Weena.”

“I saw a siren about to rip off your helmet,” Challenger offered, draining his cup and getting up to refill it. Burton watched as he did so, taking a small flask from his pocket and pouring some of its contents into the steaming cup. Challenger then returned to his seat at Herbert’s side.

“Then there was that other thing,” said Challenger. “Or person. And we all know who it was, don’t we? Why don’t you come clean, Captain?”

“I’d best let Miss Marsh tell you in her own words,” said Nemo.

At tha,t Elizabeth Marsh entered the room, dressed in a blue coverall similar to what Nemo’s men wore. Her hair was wet, dark ringlets spilling down her back.

“Hello, gentlemen,” she said, taking a chair next to Nemo.

“Hello,” said Challenger, “whatever you are.”

“I-it was you?” said Herbert, wide-eyed.

“It was, indeed,” said Miss Marsh. “I am sorry to have kept this from all of you. It’s just that it is a lot to take in, and there wasn’t a need, at the time, for you to know of my true nature.”

“We’d better know now,” said Burton.

Elizabeth nodded and began.

“My story is a long one, and I won’t bore you with the particulars. Suffice it to say that I am not fully human.”

Herbert gasped.

Burton coughed.