Chapter 35

At first, Landa stayed put, too scared to move but when she heard her name again, she peeked out from behind the rock and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw a man cautiously making his way through the pool of water into the cave- It was her human lover. "Homero!" She called out in excitement, instantly coming out of her hiding as she rushed out to embrace him. "You came! How did you find me?" She asked.

"I was worried, I saw some men chasing you and I took a shorter route to get to you." He said to her then notice her grimace a bit as she pulled away from him. "Are you okay?" He asked in concern, then looking down at the side of her waist, he saw blood seeping out of the gash the harpoon had pierced in her flesh. "You are hurt!" He said in worry now.

"Yes, please, help me! I need to get back home immediately! Help me escape from here, Homero! There are men trying to kill me. I don't know what wrong I've done." She begged him, still very frightened.

"Kill you?" Homero stared into her eyes. "No, darling... There's no one trying to kill you. They are only here to take you."

"What do you mean?" Landa asked in suspicion now, slowly backing away from her human lover who now had a subtle sinister smile on his face.

Her lover turned his head towards the entrance of the cave and said out loud. "SHE'S IN HERE!" His voice echoed in the cave.

"Homero, what's going on?" Landa asked now as her panic resumed. "This was all you?! What have you done?" She asked in tears and disbelief as her pursuers rushed into the cave now. "Who are these men?"

"Yes, it was all me, baby." Homero said with a smirk and when he tried to touch her cheek, she shrugged him away, her eyes filled with trepidation, disappointment and anger. Her eyes began to flash white now as the men formed a circle around her, ready to pounce on her, but the light only ended up flickering off.

"Hey, hey, don't bother doing that, sweet Landa..." said Homero. "...you and I know very well that it won't work. You told me yourself that your ultimate weakness is being in love with a human, so why don't you just quit the power thingy and just go with these men, they have promised to take good care of you."

"You betrayed me, Homero! I trusted you!" Landa yelled now in rage. "YOU BETRAYED ME!" As she furiously advanced towards her lover to strike him with her claws, he quickly cowered in fear, shielding his head by lifting his arm to block her blow but she didn't get to him before the men threw a strong net over her, capturing her.

 Landa began to screech, growl and fiercely struggle in the net, making menacing sounds as she tried to break free from the strong net. Relieved that he was unhurt, Homero straightened up now with a broad smile on his face. "You have just made me a fortune, sweetheart. I'll never forget you for that." He cockily said, teasing her through the net, and that seemed to infuriate the helpless mermaid the more. 

As she tried to lung at him through the net, her captives simply began to drag her out of the cave towards a lifeboat. It took almost ten men to drag her out of the cave and also deposit her into the boat despite her feistiness and struggles. Soon, two men who had gotten in the boat with her began to row to a bigger ship which had a carved mermaid as its figurehead at its bow, while the deceitful Homero mockingly waved at Landa, blowing her a goodbye kiss.

A billionaire American, Mr. Dankworth, who was in his late seventies and had been collecting mermaids from several countries for past decades grimly watched the struggling mermaid, with his hands behind him. 

He was a man obsessed with the myth of immortality, and his desperation to cure his Leukemia had made him delve into reading and researching on various myths where he had discovered that certain people in the past believed that a particular fluid harvested from mermaids could cure all illnesses and also give immortality.

 Mr. Dankworth looked very frail and wrinkled but he felt very strong within his dying body which was as a result of consuming mermaid blood every nine days. 

He had even started a black market of selling mermaid blood as an elixir to other billionaire elites around the world who dreaded the effects of mortality as age inevitably wasted their bodies and drew them nearer to the door of death. 

A small vial of mermaid blood cost hundreds of millions of dollars but Mr. Dankworth felt unfulfilled despite all the riches he had amassed from his illegal business. Of what use was all the wealth if he couldn't live forever to enjoy them? He was even more despaired because he was yet to find the ultimate mermaid who could give him the most priced gift of youthfulness and immortality. 

All the mermaids he had captured, lacked the immortality fluid he needed and that was why he kept on with the search. As he watched the men row the mermaid towards his ship, he began to hope in his heart that this particular mermaid would be the solution to his problem and probably the end to his mermaid hunt too. He was desperate for his cure and he feared he would die before he found it.

Mr. Dankworth was a man of few words. He always had a stern look on his face and always looked mean and unreceptive except when he was with his children and grandkids or in the midst of his fellow elites. "Smith, do you think this Cuban can keep such a classified secret about the mermaid?" He asked his young personal assistance who was in his mid-thirties.

"I don't think he'll go running his mouth about what he has done, sir." Smith replied. He was a tall man with brown hair and blue eyes but had a scar on his neck where a mermaid had clawed him a few years ago. "Besides, the mer-kind are rather infamous for seeking vengeance against anyone who offends one of their own, so the Cuban might not get to enjoy his ten million dollars after all for betraying his lover. If I considered him a threat, I'd have had one of the bounty hunters end the greedy chap right now, but too many people already saw us on the island together...and I'm also considering the prospects of working with him again in the future."

"This is the fifth mermaid we are capturing after twenty-one years, Smith... I do not have much time, and with each day that passes, my health deteriorates and I feel myself floating closer to the brink of death. We aren't doing enough, Smith. We have to find the ultimate mermaid who will give me the cure and immortality that I need before I die from this blasted disease. The other mermaids' blood only gives me temporary cures and it is quite frustrating."

"Sir, I assure you that I'm doing my best to follow up every little rumor about any sightings of mermaid around the world...and soon, we'll hit the jackpot."

"And are there any new reports?" Mr. Dankworth asked hopefully.

"I heard of a rumor in Brazil, sir. I'll put a call through to our men there so that we can follow every lead...hopefully we will get a positive report soon." Smith assured his boss.

"Soon might be another twenty-one years, Smith, and I don't think I've that more patience. Africa has come highly recommended and I'm almost certain that what I have sought for the past fifty-four years dwells in that continent. Send out word as soon as possible. We might just get lucky." Mr. Dankworth stated, turned and returned to his cabin.

Mr. Smith remained on the deck and as the mermaid was finally hoisted by ropes on board, he opened a little box, pulled out an injection whose glass syringe contained a green fluid then moving behind the struggling mermaid, he stabbed the needle into her back, injecting the fluid into her bloodstream. Soon, Landa stopped screeching and struggling, then as the drug slowly took effect, she soon lost consciousness and collapsed on the deck.

"Take her below deck and put her in the glass containment." Smith instructed. "We are sailing back tonight. Our business is done here!" He told the captain then walked away.

                                                                                         * * *

Somewhere in Eastern Nigeria...

The cane came down on her flesh again and Oluchi clamped her lips together to muffle a painful sound which almost escaped her mouth as she writhed on her knees, twisting her body here and there since her strict husband had forbidden her from scratching her body nor crying out in pain. 

Vincent, her nine-year-old son, stood in the doorway of their bedroom, the side of his young face pressed against the door jamb as he watched his mother remain on her knees with her forearms placed on a wooden chair. She was helpless and he could see it in her red eyes which had turned glassy from tears as she helplessly stared at him.