#rcga

“She’s not a mermaid.”

The grip Carla had on her clipboard was tightening with each word she muttered. Just outside her hybrid’s enclosure stood her and another caretaker, who had decided to chat her up before hours. The man opposite her—about two inches shorter and a nametag that said he was from a completely different section of the Center—laughed as if he hadn’t just made a terribly offensive assumption.

“Right, ‘course not. How’s little Ariel doing anyways?”

The humming of low-watt light bulbs ahead could be heard over the deafening silence Carla gave him in response. Her mouth had hung open for a second before she swallowed back her formal politeness and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Do you know the first thing about aquatics, anyways?” Her eyes flitted down to his nametag once again. “Hm? Should I assume that every avian type is just a friggin’ harpy?”

The man gave her a nasty look and backed up a few feet. “Jesus, calm down. I was just kidding with you.” Carla huffed at him and turned towards the enclosure entrance door, tapping in the surveillance code quickly.

“I don’t care, you’re the one who decided to talk to me,” she said before she slid open the freshly unlocked door and stepped inside, closing off the man’s unwanted attention behind her. The room was nearly pitch black, save the purplish hue of a few UV lights providing vague visual aid. It smelled of water; the damp, mossy scent that reminded Carla of a rainy day. Hums and whirs of aeration filters, water pressure moderators, and temperature-correcting devices echoed against the large tank that sat inside the room. It held Carla’s beloved hybrid who she affectionately called Sam. Carla stepped up to the thick glass pane and tapped softly against the glass.

Sam was a deep-sea creature hybrid, something from beyond human reach. Her legs were fused into a single tail, but it was a bit mangled-looking and made for some difficulty keeping still. Her entire body was shaped like a bullet, made entirely for easily slipping through the waters; she even lacked a head of hair. She hadn’t a strand of hair anywhere, in fact. The upper half of her body was smooth as well, her chest entirely flat, shoulders slim, and arms tucked against her sides. Her skin was a ghostly white, standing out against the black background of the tank. You didn’t need pigment when you lived in a place where sight doesn’t matter. She had eyes, but they were blown nearly out of proportion to her head, round like discs and nearly the size of Carla’s fist. The few people who have seen her may go so far as to remark it was scary. Terrifying, even.

Daniel Greyman knew a lot about fear. He knew a lot about unreasonable fear, and he knew a lot about every fear he’s ever had coming true. He knew what it did to people.

So it was no surprise that he was stony-faced and calm when his boss told him she was sorry. He didn’t do a thing but nod when she handed him the yellow little slip with the word ‘TRANSFER’ stamped onto the top. Dread filled him, but he wasn’t scared. Which was stupid, because the place he worked in now handled calm, generally kind hybrids; simple animal-human mutations.

The Anti-Center, as his coworkers called it, handled demons and monsters and all sorts of the unknown.

He should have been terrified.

  -

  The two flights from New York to California were long and tiring, not the least bit pleasant. Daniel was scheduled to stay at the Anti-Center—or Unknown Creature Research Center (UCRC) — for two weeks. The hotel stay was included, though, so he couldn’t complain too much. Not to mention he hadn’t had a real and steady job like this for months, ever since Gill died.

He sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes, looking out the window of the car driving him to his new job. As he was driven farther into the wooded areas and winding roads, he suspected that the UCRC was secluded instead of disguised. California is known for its thick woods of redwood trees, so why wouldn’t the government put it to use?

Still, it took a whole hour more to reach his destination. The trees above cast long streaks of shadows down onto him as he was lead from the car to the building’s main entrance. The place is huge, he marveled. Bulky, armed guards watched him follow the tour guide through the door. Just like the ones at home.

He was lead down rows and rows of enclosures, and he gave up trying to get a glimpse of all the creatures after only 5 minutes. The ones he did see, however, were different than anything he’s ever seen before.

“These are the neutral ones,” his guide remarked. “They’re either okay with what we’re doing or they don’t know any better, and they’re easy to handle.”

Before long they reached a different section of the building, where the enclosures’ large pane of display glass was replaced with thick steel. Daniel didn’t have to be told to know that these were the more aggressive creatures. He chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously; was his hybrid going to be like this? God, he hoped not, but he had a bad feeling about it.

Not long after, he spotted a man standing near an enclosure entrance down the hallway. His guide stopped in front of the man, gesturing to him.

“Daniel, this is Mr. Rale, he’s the head of caretaker initiation and he’s going to make sure you and subject 397 get along.”

Daniel nodded, extending his arm and shaking hands with Mr. Rale.  “You don’t name your subjects…?”

Mr. Rale shook his hand back, his grip firm. He shrugged. “No, the relationship between subjects and caretakers are much more formal—technical, almost. We don’t treat them like fellow humans, we treat them like what they are; creatures.”

The guide had already made their way back down the hall, leaving the two of them to talk. Daniel nodded.

“Uh-huh. Understandable, I guess. So, um, why… is my subject—uh… violent? I’m assuming this is their enclosure…”

Mr. Rale cast a glance at the locked door. “Yeah, this is his. You’re an experienced caretaker, though, and we feel like you can handle it quite well. All you have to do it watch him for about 10 minutes and sit still so he gets used to you.”

Surely, that couldn’t be too hard. Daniel proceeded and, eventually, he was standing in the pre-room of the enclosure with the outer door slamming behind him. He took a deep breath and opened the door to the actual enclosure.

Before him was about 5 feet of smooth concrete before it suddenly dipped down into a pool-like hole. The large hole was filled with greenish—probably “natural”—pond or ocean water. What a coincidence, he thought dryly, an aquatic. Just like Gill. He wrinkled his nose at the scent of the water; salt and fish—dead fish. He backed up, sitting on the dry part of the concrete. The walls were textured with large rocks, almost like one could crawl up them if so desired. There was no sign of his new subject, and he assumed it was just swimming around beneath the water’s surface.

He was right, it turned out, as ripples soon formed in the water. Daniel sat up, eyes wide as he watched for any form of life. A few seconds passed, and just as the ripples began to disappear, something broke past the surface of the water, throwing its body towards the edge of the concrete. Daniel gasped a little, standing up and stumbling back, finally hitting the rocks. He watched the subject push itself up, only its torso leaving the water. It was scaly and a shade of sickly brown with a pale underbelly, almost like a twisted mermaid. It leaned forward, sniffing in Daniel’s direction for a good 5 seconds before looking up at his face and baring its teeth. A small hiss escaped its throat before it slid back into the water and disappeared. Daniel swallowed thickly.