Free Fish Out of Water by Ros Baxter Page A

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    All is well. After everything that has been, all is going to be okay…
    I was groggy and disoriented, my mind blank, as I twisted and bucked in the bright room, sheets pinning me down. My eyes connected with furniture and light that I didn’t recognize, that made no sense. I was a girl, riding off into the sunset, my heart full. What was all of this? A slick black space occupied the zone where I somehow knew my thoughts and memories should be. I gasped and spluttered like a drowning woman. I groped for myself, for my soul, not knowing who or where I was. A prickly rush arced through me and I tasted blood on my tongue as I bit down against the terror. Blank consciousness overwhelmed me for a few seconds before I remembered who and where I was. Before the simple furnishings – the netbook on a desk, the Goan wall hanging – declared themselves mine.
    Me. Rania . Of Dirtwater, Nowhere. Half mermaid, half cop. Half freakin’ insane.
    I sat up quickly, tearing sheets from my body and wondering if death was like that. Ugly nothingness. Being empty of self. It was the shit-scariest thing that had ever happened to me.
    I stretched like a cat, feeling sore patches and an aching bruise where my brain used to be. I glanced at the clock. Ten am. Brownie o’clock.
    Wonder why Mom let me sleep so long.
    Then I remembered. I was out of bed and hunting for Mom in one swift movement, although the larger muscles of my torso and quads were echoing the screaming of my brain. I felt like some giant hand had picked me up and squeezed until I was red-raw inside and out.
    But I didn’t care.
    I limped through the red shield of agony. The whole thing seemed surreal. Mermaids in Dirtwater. Sound weapons.
    And, weirder still, happy ever after dreams.
    “How are you this morning darling?” I fuzzily registered that Mom was speaking with her lips rather than into my head, and that she sounded forced, so I figured we had company.
    “Peachy, Mama,” I lied briskly.
    And then the voice of my boss was at my ear, picking at my wounds as though he was scratching them with a scalpel. “Big night, huh Rania?”
    Aldus. Give me scary sound weapon guy any day. I should have known. Brownie Sunday is like a mating call to the Dirtwater male.
    “Hi Aldus,” I smiled at him, sniffing the air. “Started early this morning, Ma?”
    “I remember you promised some brownies to little Billy,” she confirmed, doing her best Little House on the Prairie.
    Oh by the Goddess, that’s right. I needed to get rid of the Sheriff. But how? I shot an SOS like a laser beam into Mom’s head. Don’t you need something for the frosting?
    Mom quickly bundled up two care parcels of freshly iced brownies for Aldus. “Here you go, dear,” she offered with honey persuasion. “Best get those over to your Ma right away, so they’re nice and warm for her.”
    “Now?” Aldus had never been sent on his way so quickly. “What about Red Riding Hood?” He motioned at me in my crimson dressing gown. “She usually takes ’em to Ma.” “Oh, she would darling, but she has to go visit her father first. Didn’t you remember it’s Arty’s birthday? And you know your Ma’ll be waiting for them.”
    Aldus had the good grace to look embarrassed. Dad’s still his best friend, despite having been locked up in the county jail for the last twelve years. “Oh, of course,” he lied. “Course I remembered. Gonna pop over to see him myself. Later.”
    Aldus and Dad play a regular poker game at the jail, every Tuesday afternoon. It says something about Dirtwater that no-one bats an eyelid about the Sheriff and our most famous con being best buddies. Or about the con being the Mayor’s ex. Or the deputy being the daughter of said con and said mayor. I thought for a moment that maybe Dirtwater wasn’t such a parochial little shithole. Maybe Mom knew what she was doing when she chose it after all.
    Aldus pried himself off the stool, moseying over to give Mom a quick peck on the