Jim couldn’t fully remember what had happened to him after the torpedoes hit the ship. He knew he had been injured, thrown into the water that had put out the flames that burned along his body. He also recalled the rescue team hauling him onto a stretcher, and someone pushing something between his teeth before pain caused him to black out again.
All of that had been a few days ago. As things went, he was lucky. Some burns and a broken arm were better than dying. Jim looked down at the sand, trying to bring back the fuzzy image that kept playing in his mind. A beautiful face, long wet hair hanging around her shoulders as she leaned over him, dragging him onto the shore.
Why did he keep seeing that? Was it a dream he’d had? A side effect of the drugs they’d given him for the pain? No, she was real. She told me I would be alright. She saved me.
He lifted his head and looked up and down the beach. Something dark caught his eye, a little patch sitting on the sand. Wincing, Jim moved toward it slowly. It looked like a bundle of clothing. Jim nudged at it with his shoe, and it didn’t react. Bending down slowly, he picked it up with his good hand. It was a coat; small, likely a woman’s. As he lifted it, something heavy fell out onto the sand. A pair of leather shoes had been wrapped up in the coat. Who had left them? Jim did his best to hold the coat upright against himself so that he could search through the pockets. Maybe the owner had left something behind… yes, there was something in the right-hand pocket. He pulled out a slip of paper, clumsily unfolding it.
Dear Mrs. Gullwithe,
You are probably wondering where I am by now. I’ve left to do my part for the war in my own way. Don’t worry about me. Thank you for accepting me when I had nowhere else to go. Without that, I wouldn’t have found my real purpose. Give my things to one of the other girls who needs them most; I won’t be back for them.
Sarah
~.~
Within the next six months, the number of lives lost to German U-boat attacks decreased dramatically. The press reported that the United States government had developed new ways of protecting vessels that traversed the Atlantic Ocean; escort ships, protected harbors, depth charges dropped, citizen efforts by plane and boat. Those who were actually there, however, claimed something else was out there. Another, more mysterious entity, diverting the submarines where they could, rescuing the victims where they could not. The singular thread in every story was the presence of a young woman with long hair, tangled about by the water. Some thought it only a delusion of their overwrought minds. Others swore solemn oaths that they had seen one of the merfolk of legend. It may be impossible to ever know the truth for certain.
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