Page 5 of Lily and her Mercenary (CHANGING OF THE GUARDS)

Ryker

T he smirk that crossed Lily's face should have been my first warning.

Three hours later, I found myself surrounded by twenty-seven kindergarteners in matching blue T-shirts, all vibrating with the uncontainable energy of children hyped up on Halloween candy.

"Mr. Ryker, is it true sharks can smell blood from miles away?" A freckle-faced boy tugged on my sleeve while simultaneously unwrapping a contraband lollipop.

"Well, actually—"

"Mr. Ryker! Amelia says octopuses are aliens. Are they aliens?" Another child materialized at my elbow.

"Technically, they're cephalopods—"

"I need to go potty!" announced a little girl with pigtails, doing an unmistakable dance.

I glanced desperately at Lily, who was calmly checking off names on her clipboard. She caught my eye and winked. "Having fun yet, volunteer?"

Before I could answer, a commotion erupted at the touch tank. Two boys were engaged in what appeared to be a splash war, while a starfish sailed through the air.

"Move out of the way!!" I shouted, lunging to catch the airborne sea star. My foot slipped on the wet floor, sending me sliding into the "No Tapping on Glass" sign beside the jellyfish exhibit.

"Class, remember our aquarium rules!" Lily called out, her voice somehow cutting through the chaos without rising above a conversational level.

I scrambled to my feet just as the pigtailed girl announced, "Too late," with a puddle forming beneath her light-up sneakers. Thankfully, her mother was the only other volunteer.

The next hour was a blur of bathroom trips, lost lunch boxes, and one particularly memorable moment when a boy named Tommy convinced half the class that the dolphin show was a secret alien communication ritual.

"They're not buying it," Tommy whispered urgently as we huddled in the underwater viewing tunnel. "The dolphins, I mean. They're spies."

"That's... fascinating," I managed, while simultaneously preventing the twins from licking the glass of the shark tank.

By the time we reached the penguin exhibit, my shirt was soaked with an unidentifiable sticky substance, I'd lost count of how many times I'd said, "Please don't touch that," and I was pretty sure I had a goldfish cracker in my ear.

"Okay, everyone, gather around for our special penguin presentation!" announced the aquarium guide, a college-aged kid whose bright smile hadn't yet dimmed in the face of elementary school chaos.

As if on cue, the fire alarm blared.

"Nobody panic!" Lily shouted, immediately taking charge. "Line up by the exit door!"

"But I didn't get to see the electric eel!" wailed a child clutching a stuffed dolphin.

"Was it the aliens?" Tommy asked, eyes wide with vindication.

I helped Lily corral the children toward the emergency exit, only to discover the source of the alarm—a small boy standing guiltily beneath a pulled fire alarm.

"Marcus," Lily sighed, "what did we discuss about emergency equipment?"

"That's for emergencies," he mumbled. "But Jimmy said penguins can't fly, and I wanted to see if they could fly away from a fire."

Outside in the parking lot, surrounded by evacuated aquarium visitors and apologizing to the fire department, Lily turned to me with laughter in her eyes.

"So... how bad can it be?" she quoted me from this morning, raising an eyebrow.

I pulled the goldfish cracker from my ear. "I think I owe you approximately seven hundred apologies and possibly a new career."

"Just wait until we take them to the gift shop," she whispered, as the all-clear was given. "That's where the real adventure begins."

I groaned but couldn't help smiling at the mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'm already covered in suspicious liquids and fish snacks. What's a little impulse shopping to top it off?"

"That's the spirit!" Lily laughed, her clipboard tucked under one arm as she began herding the children back toward the entrance. "Okay, Blue Dolphins, remember our gift shop rules!"

Twenty-seven voices chanted in unison: "Two things only, nothing alive, nothing that makes noise!"

I leaned closer to Lily. "Nothing alive? That's... oddly specific."

"Field trip to the pet store last year," she murmured. "Three escaped hamsters and one very traumatized bus driver. We don't talk about it."

The gift shop was a wonderland of marine-themed merchandise, shelves packed with plush sea creatures, plastic trinkets, and overpriced science kits. The children scattered like billiard balls after the break, diving into aisles with squeals of delight.

"Mr. Ryker!" Tommy appeared, clutching a snow globe containing a miniature shark. "This is actually a communication device. See how the water moves? Morse code from the deep."

"Fascinating theory," I replied, gently steering him away from a teetering display of shell necklaces.

For the next thirty minutes, I became a combination negotiator, mathematician, and therapist as children debated life-altering decisions between dolphin keychains and shark tooth necklaces.

I helped count crumpled dollar bills, dried tears when the giant plush octopus proved too expensive, and explained patiently why the "real megalodon tooth" was probably not authentic.

"You're a natural," Lily said, appearing beside me as I helped a little girl named Emma calculate whether she could afford both a pencil and an eraser shaped like a pufferfish.

"I think Stockholm syndrome is setting in," I replied, with a chuckle. Despite the chaos, watching these kids' faces light up with wonder was... nice. Different from the cold and calculated murderer that I actually was.

As we finally loaded the last souvenir-laden child onto the bus, Lily handed me a small paper bag.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Open it."

Inside was a keychain with a small plastic starfish.

For some asinine reason, as I looked at it, I felt tears well in my eyes. No one had ever given me anything. I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

She shrugged, the afternoon sunlight catching in her hair. "It’s the least I could do, considering most of the parental volunteers bailed on me last minute."

"I lost a child in the kelp forest exhibit."

"You found him in under two minutes."

"Only because I followed the trail of dropped Smarties."

"Resourceful," she countered, climbing onto the bus steps. "That's what makes a good volunteer."

I followed her up, ducking to avoid the low ceiling. "Is that what I am now? A good volunteer?"

The bus doors closed behind us as Lily took her seat at the front, turning to face me with that same smile that had greeted me over coffee this morning—a lifetime ago.

"Let's see how you handle the bus ride back before I answer that," she said, but her eyes told me she already knew.

The bus driver cranked the engine, and the vehicle lurched forward just as a chorus of "The Wheels on the Bus" erupted from twenty-seven sugar-fueled voices. I grabbed the nearest seat to keep from falling, only to discover I'd sat on someone's half-eaten peanut butter sandwich.

"Mr. Ryker!" A small hand yanked my sleeve. "Emma threw up!"

I whipped around to see a green-faced girl in the third row, her brand-new pufferfish eraser and pencil, clenched in each of her hands, was now decorated with something decidedly not gift shop material.

"Oh boy," Lily muttered, springing into action with a speed that would impress Olympic athletes. She produced an emergency kit from beneath her seat while simultaneously instructing the bus driver to pull over.

"SHARK!" screamed Tommy, pointing wildly at the city bus pulling alongside us.

Pandemonium erupted. Children dove under the seats. Two girls used their newly purchased dolphin puppets as shields. A boy in the back row started throwing his souvenir seashells at the perceived threat.

"It's not a shark!" I yelled, lunging down the aisle as the bus driver slammed on the brakes, sending me sprawling face-first into the sticky floor, inches away from Emma’s puke.

I popped up off the floor, and through the windows, I saw three masked figures approaching our bus.

"Everyone down!" Lily commanded, her teacher's voice cutting through the chaos. Her eyes met mine, and I saw real fear there.

"Those aren't aquarium staff," she whispered as I scrambled to her side.

The first figure reached the door, yanking it repeatedly. The bus driver, a retired Navy veteran named Earl, locked it and shook his head.

"Call 911," I muttered to Lily, reaching for my phone only to find it soaked from the touch tank incident.

The second figure produced something that made my blood run cold – a crowbar.

"Back of the bus, now," I said to Lily. "Get the kids to the emergency exit."

Glass shattered as the crowbar connected with the side window. A child screamed.

My mind raced. Twenty-seven kids. One exit. Not enough time.

The would-be intruder's arm snaked through the broken window, reaching for the door handle.

Without thinking, I grabbed the nearest object – a plastic trident from the gift shop – and jabbed it at the arm. The man recoiled with a curse.

"Tommy!" I shouted. "Remember those alien communication skills? Time to deploy them!"

The boy's eyes widened with understanding. He raised his shark snow globe and hurled it through the broken window with surprising accuracy, nailing one of the masked figures in the head.

"Blue Dolphins, battle stations!" Lily called out, and to my astonishment, the children responded with military precision, grabbing their souvenirs and positioning themselves along the windows.

A barrage of plastic sea creatures, rock candy, and gift shop projectiles rained down on our attackers. A particularly well-aimed stuffed pufferfish knocked the crowbar from the lead figure's hand.

Earl had recovered his composure and was now on the radio, calling for police backup.

I spotted a fire extinguisher mounted near his seat. "Keep them busy!" I yelled, lunging for it.

One of the masked figures had managed to get the door partially open. I aimed the extinguisher and unleashed a cloud of white chemical spray directly into their face.

He stumbled backward, colliding with his companions. If the situation weren’t so serious, I would have laughed as it reminded me of a skit from The Three Stooges. Relief washed through me at the sound of wailing police cars in the distance.

"They're running!" Emma shouted, her motion sickness apparently cured by the adrenaline rush.

Sure enough, our attackers were scrambling back to their vehicle. I caught a glimpse of something falling from one of their pockets – a small black device with a blinking red light.

"Everyone out the back!" I shouted, a sick feeling in my gut. "Now!"

Lily didn't question me, immediately directing the children toward the emergency exit. I helped Earl from his seat, supporting his weight as we followed the stream of blue-shirted kindergarteners pouring out the back door.

We were barely fifty feet away when a deafening boom shook the ground. The bus rocked on its wheels as flames erupted from beneath it.

The children stared in stunned silence as their field trip vehicle became an inferno.

"Is this part of the aquarium experience?" whispered a wide-eyed Marcus.

Lily wrapped her arms around the nearest children, her face pale but composed. "No, but you all just earned your bravery badges."

Police cars screeched into view, followed by fire trucks. In the chaos of emergency responders, I found myself standing beside Lily, watching flames consume the bus.

"Those weren't random thieves," she said quietly, so the children couldn't hear.

She met my eyes. "No, they weren't."

"They were after me, weren’t they?”

I nodded. “I hate to say this, Lily, but I think you need to take a leave of absence.”