“I need more ammunition for the rifle,” she said, rolling away. She wanted to cover herself with the blankets, but he’d hit her once for that. In the glare of the Coleman lantern, she could already see bruises rising on her arms where he’d held her. Bogart liked it rough, and he seemed to believe that if she was tough enough to have survived the plague that had wiped out 90% of humanity that she would exhibit the same passion for sex that he did. Truth is, she might... with someone else. There was something about being a survivor, something instinctual, something that said pass on your genes—quick! And what better celebration of life than sex? What better way to say “I’m still here, God damn it!” than screaming your rage in orgasmic release?
“Thirty-ought-six?” he asked.
“No,” she replied. “It’s a two-seventy magnum.” He was testing her. He’d given her the rifle and knew its caliber. He was the one who had taught her to shoot it, sitting up in the water ski stadium, punching holes in the plywood constructs out on the lake.
“Bring you some on my next run.” He was picking at the sores on his face. She looked away, wanting to throw up. Like many, the plague had passed right through him, leaving him alive but afflicted with suppurating lesions that spotted his face, back, and genitals. The first few times he’d fucked her, she’d been certain she would catch whatever it was. But the immunity that protected her from the virus seemed to keep her clean of the sores. “You been practicing again?”
“No.” She hesitated, briefly wondering if she wanted to tell him. “I had some people come after Einstein.”
He sat up, his interest peaked by the thought of violence. “Again? What the hell do they want with him anyway? There’s more than enough food out there for the scrounging. Hell, we’ll have canned goods for the next five, ten years, at least.”
“I don’t know what they wanted,” she said, but secretly she thought it had something to do with destroying one of the few items of beauty left in Texas. Einstein was an affront to survivors. Why should this one dolphin live when millions of people had died?
“Put any of ’em under?” Bogart asked.
“No,” she all but whispered, trying not to remember the one time Bogart had killed an interloper for her or how much the scrawny facsimile of humanity had bled or how they’d dragged the body clear across the park and dumped it in the old marine mammal pool. She’d drained that pool three months ago when she thought she was going to have to move Einstein there. The training tank behind Shamu Stadium, however, had proved to have a newer and more reliable filtration system. She’d then had to drain the orcas’ main tank to drop the water level below the channel that connected it to the training tank. The mummified remains of the three killer whales were still there at the bottom of the tank against the pale blue of the concrete, unrecognizable lumps of dark hide punctuated by protruding white bone.
“How many were there?” Bogart asked.
“Three. I used most of the ammo making sure they knew not to come back.” She waited, expecting him to be angry because she’d wasted ammunition. When he didn’t react, one of her suspicions was confirmed. Ammunition wasn’t hard to come by, not for a man like Bogart who traded between the coast and Dallas, perhaps even as far north as Oklahoma City. Food and medical supplies might be hard to find, but weapons and ammunition were probably abundant. This was, after all, Texas, where every pickup truck sported a gun rack.
The ammunition was a means for Bogart to maintain control over her. He knew she never left the park. Like Einstein’s fish, the ammunition was something only Bogart could provide.
“They’ll be back,” Bogart said. He spared her his usual lecture about her squeamishness when it came to killing them. She was glad that she’d chosen to tell him after they’d had sex, when he was sated, when he’d expended most of his energy and was less likely to be mad.
“Bastards probably want a fish sandwich.” He reached out and tried to pull her close, but she resisted. It was too soon, even for his appetite. “You’ve heard of sushi, right?” He laughed at his own joke, but when he saw that it wasn’t funny, he showed her a rare moment of tenderness and apologized. “I’ll check the truck for you, Darcy.” He placed a meaty hand on her bare thigh. “Might be I’ve got a box of two-seventies that I’ve forgotten about.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, finally allowing him to pull her close.
“But you oughta just get the hell out of here.”
“I can’t leave Einstein.”
“It’s just a damn fish, Darcy.”
They’d been down this road before, and she’d learned not to argue that a dolphin was a mammal, not a fish.
“Look,” he said, “if you’re worried about him suffering, I’ll do him for you. I’ll even haul him out somewheres and bury him, so those city folk don’t get their hands on him. I know how attached you are to him. Hell, when I was a kid, I had a dog. Felt the same way.”
“Thanks, Bogey,” she said, swallowing how much she hated him. “I appreciate the offer. Really. But I couldn’t see him killed. Not after everything we’ve been through here.”
• • •
When the fish had been unloaded and hauled to the propane freezer that she’d rigged up in Shamu Stadium, they stood watching Einstein skim along like a black torpedo just beneath the surface of the pool. Darcy let Bogart hold her close in the fading light, resting her head on his shoulder. At moments like this, she could almost care about the man. He was, after all, the only other survivor she’d talked to since moving into Sea World.
“You really are a beautiful lady,” he whispered, kissing her behind her ear.
“You just can’t see the wrinkles at twilight,” she replied, “but thanks for saying so, all the same.”
He held her at arm’s length. “No, you’re really beautiful. I mean it, Darcy. I really do.”
She smiled sadly. “I know, Bogey. I—”
“Listen,” he said, “come away with me. Leave this place and just come away with me.”
She shook her head. “I won’t leave Einstein.”
He frowned and, for a moment, she thought he was going to be angry, maybe even hit her, but instead he walked to the edge of the pool. Einstein darted forward to greet him, raising his head above the water and chattering inanely. “What if,” Bogart speculated, “we could take him with us?”
She sensed the onset of his cruelest joke yet. Worse than the time he’d given her a whole side of pork and then told her it was human flesh, that everyone had been reduced to eating it. He’d nearly had her convinced and only let on that it was all a joke when she’d excused herself to go throw up. She knew better than to trust him. Yet... if there was a chance that he was serious—
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Well, you moved him from the dolphin stadium to this one. How involved was that?”
She’d already told him the whole story, of course, how she’d rigged the winch and a canvas sling, how she’d used the last of the gasoline in one of the park’s little ATVs to ferry the dolphin from one tank to the next. Einstein was a Pacific white-sided dolphin, smaller and lighter than his bottlenose cousins. The whole process had taken several days to set up, but the actual move had taken less than an hour.
Bogart reached out and tentatively stroked Einstein’s head. It was the first time he’d ever touched the animal. Einstein whistled and used his flukes to lift himself higher out of the water. He looked as if he wanted to shake Bogart’s hand, a trick he used to perform when the park had been open.
“Couldn’t we do the same thing in the back of my truck?” Bogart asked. “Isn’t it just a matter of keeping him wet?”
“Move him where?”
Bogart looked back over his shoulder at her. “Don’t be dense, Darcy. You know where. I’m talking about taking him to Corpus Christi and releasing him. I’m talking about setting him free.”
• • •
Darcy tried to walk out with Bogart to the truck, but he waved her back. “Wa
it by the gate.”
He was dressed in his camouflage fatigues and high, black boots. There were two nine-millimeters tucked in shoulder holsters under his arms. A 12 gauge pump hung from his shoulder, the black webbing of its sling striped by the red plastic of shotgun shells. He swaggered when he walked. Confidant. King of the World. But under the swagger, Darcy noted his caution. He scanned the ticket buildings and the souvenir shops. He checked under the truck. When he pulled something out of his pocket and pointed it at the truck, its lights flashed once, briefly.
His caution didn’t speak well of the outside world. Behind her gates, Darcy was relatively safe. The park was a haunted place, reeking of dead animals. Few survivors cared to venture inside. She’d had the two encounters with foragers that had taken an interest in Einstein; nothing more. She was terrified of what waited outside and, if Bogart’s weaponry was any indicator, she had reason to be. Besides, she’d seen enough of the outside before coming to Sea World.
Darcy waited while Bogart went around to the back of the truck, opened it up, and disappeared inside. A few minutes later he emerged and brought her a box of .270 Remington Magnums.
“Thanks,” she said, the green and yellow box heavy in her hands. It was more than just the weight of the shells. It was debt. It was another long, hot afternoon beneath him.
“Next time try to put a few rounds in somebody’s head. That’s the best way to convince the others not to come back. And think about what I said, okay?”
“I will.”
He tipped her chin up so that she was looking at his face. “Really think about it, Darce. Getting fish for you ain’t easy, ya know? There’s gonna come a Saturday that I don’t show up. Are you prepared to watch your dolphin die of starvation? Best we get him to the ocean where he belongs.”
She nodded. He was probably right. She couldn’t count on Bogart forever. “I just don’t know if he can survive there,” she explained. “Einstein was raised in a tank. He doesn’t know how to find food for himself.”
Bogart nodded toward San Antonio’s skyline in the distance, barely visible in the last of the light. “No different than those people raised in the cities, Darce.” Something was burning this evening, shimmering off the buildings downtown, trailing a long dingy smear of smoke that split around the base of the Tower of the Americas and faded into the encroaching night. Many evenings there was gunfire. Once she’d heard a huge explosion that had shaken the ground. “No one really knows if they’re a survivor until put to the test. Best you can do now is give Einstein the chance to try.” He ran his finger over her lips. “Besides, it gets lonely on the road. I could really use a partner, ya know?”
“I’ll think about it.”
He kissed her. “See you next week.”
“We’ll be here.”
He gave her a half-smile that seemed to say ‘Where else would you be?’ Then he climbed up into the cab of the truck and started its engine. Darcy waited while he let the oil pressure come up. Let him think she hated to see him go. Let him think she couldn’t turn back to the park until he was out of sight. Let him believe she’d miss him. These were the lies that kept him coming back, the sum total adding up to the facade that she loved him. He waved out of the window as the truck made its big turn and cut across the vast acres of empty parking lot. Black smoke billowed from the chrome exhaust stacks, quickly snatched away by a breeze that was thankfully blowing toward the city.
She locked the big iron park gates behind her and went to wash Bogart’s stink and sweat and semen from her body.
• • •
Darcy found a map of Texas in one of the souvenir shops. She spread it out on the floating deck she’d rigged in Einstein’s tank (the water level was too low to use the original concrete apron) and studied it by the light of a small Coleman lantern.
The route was an easy one. 1-410 around the city to 1-37 South. From there it was a straight shot to the coast. Maybe 150 miles. They could release Einstein into Corpus Christi Bay. He could slip between the barrier islands and out into the open Gulf. The waters there were warm for his kind, but he’d adapt; after all, he’d done just fine in San Antonio. Perhaps he could take up with a pod of bottlenose.
It seemed too easy.
“What do you think?” she asked the dolphin, holding out the map.
Einstein shook his head from side to side and chattered at her, a common reaction when presented with something he didn’t recognize as food or a toy.
“Think you could catch your own fish?”
He understood that word. He did a back flip for her, then waited expectantly with his mouth open. She reached out and stroked his head, loving the feel of his rubbery hide beneath her fingers.
“I fed you already, silly.”
Einstein shook his head from side to side, eyes glittering.
“You want to play, don’t you?”
The dolphin shot across the pool, leaped into the air three times in rapid succession, and then streaked past her at surface-level, showering her with water, drenching the map. Laughing, Darcy slipped out of her clothes and plunged into the water. Einstein found her instantly, slipping up between her legs and lifting her to the surface. She wrapped her arms around him, taking hold of his pectorals, her face pressed against his side just below and to the front of his dorsal fin, there where his side was banded with white. With powerful strokes of his flukes, Einstein took them both around the pool, moonlight coruscating from the water that caressed their bodies.
Darcy loved the feel of him, the warm smooth texture of his body against the entire length of hers. She tickled his tail with her toes and he swam faster, the water parting before them in glimmering sheets of opalescent spray. She squeezed him tighter. The water was cold, but his warmth spread through her breasts and stomach where she pressed against him. She imagined she could feel his heart pounding, a rat-a-tat-tat on her sternum, a thrumming against her cheek bone. She pressed her lips against his side.
There were no worries in Einstein’s world. There was water, there was air, there was Darcy to feed and play with him. Nothing else mattered.
But how long could she provide for him?
She’d done well so far. For more than eight months, she’d kept him alive.
“What was it like before?” Bogart had once asked her.
“You mean the shows and stuff? Training the dolphins?”
‘Yeah. Did you get tired of the same routine day after day?
“Oh, no. You wouldn’t believe how the dolphins look forward to the shows. They love looking out and seeing all those faces in the stands. Myself and the other trainers, our favorite time was the time we spent alone with the animals in the back: training, practicing, and mostly just playing. But the dolphins loved the performances most of all.”
It had all been a lie. She knew absolutely nothing about training dolphins. She’d scaled Sea World’s fences to escape a gang of men intent on raping her. In just a few short weeks, the plague had swept across the southern states, dropping millions in their tracks, leaving the rest in chaos. When no one showed up for work, Sea World had remained locked up tighter than a drum, occupied by just a few maintenance personnel who had, every last one, dropped dead in the middle of their duties. (She’d used the ATV to drag all of their bodies into the woods behind the Meadows Theater.) By the time she’d arrived, the exhibits were full of dead fish. The penguins were dead, their refrigeration system having failed, killing them before they could starve to death. A few of the exotic birds were still alive; Darcy had set them free. A few of the snakes and reptiles had also survived. She’d released them into the woods. But the orcas, the belugas, and most of the dolphins were dead. Only Einstein remained, starving in a tank where his three companions were already floating, bloated and putrescent, their brilliant black and white faded to a uniform sickly shade of gray.
But Darcy had never been a part of Sea World. She’d been a drive-through teller at a bank just outside the gates of Lackland Air Force Base. She didn
’t even know Einstein’s real name. She called him that because he seemed so smart.
They played tag for a while, a one-sided game because Einstein was so fast. Darcy was a good swimmer, but she was no match for the dolphin. It was more a game of how many times he could tag her without being tagged himself. He’d dart in from behind or up from beneath and tap her with his nose, moving away so quickly afterward that she rarely managed to touch him in return. He’d taunt by letting her get close, then slipping away at the last moment, his dolphin laughter echoing through the silent park, his mouth set in that permanent grin common to all of his kind.
They shared an intimate bond, almost sexual at times: a tactile ecstasy that existed without actual coupling. His body was the most sensitive and responsive surface she’d ever touched. He liked nothing more than floating at her side, his body pressed against her, his fins lightly caressing her skin with each ripple of motion in the pool. He loved her hair. He loved her fingers. When she wasn’t caressing him, he’d often nip at her hands, scolding her with dolphin squeaks and whistles. When she talked to him, he’d listen, his dark eyes never leaving her face. As they swam and played together, he was always conscious of her fragile bones, of her unsuitability to his environment, of her mood swings and temperament. She’d caught him several times trying to imitate her laughter.
When they tired of playing tag, Einstein brought her back to the platform, towing her behind his dorsal fin. Darcy stretched out under the stars, letting the warm night breeze tease the water from her body. The dolphin placed his chin across her thigh, his tail languidly stirring the water of the pool.
Selfish as it seemed, she knew that she was afraid of losing him. Even if he could survive in the wild, she’d probably never see him again. Where would that leave her? For so long now, her sole focus had been Einstein. What would she do without him? Where would she go? Who would she be?
Salt Water Tears Page 15