Operation Dolphin Spirit

by Kimberli A. Bindschatel

  Amid the gurgle of the waves, I could hear their high-pitched clicking as they circled the group of snorkelers. One at a time, they darted through, so agile between the gangly human bodies, as though it were a fun obstacle course to traverse. They seemed as curious about us as we were of them. They wanted to play, too.

  I drew in a long breath and pushed downward, below the surface, and twirled around so I could see all directions. Looking up, the surface looked the same as it does from above—a silvery mirror in constant motion. A young dolphin sped toward me and twirled next to me, matching my spin, in perfect synchronization. I twirled again, this time the other direction, and the dolphin copied my movements. I let out a squeal. The dolphin dove under me, then circled, looking me right in the eyes. For a moment, there was nothing else but me and the dolphin, playing. But I had to surface for a breath.

  I kicked downward again, corkscrewing my way to the sandy bottom, but the dolphin was gone.

  I kicked and twirled, hoping it would come back, but it was off, zipping around another swimmer. Two more dolphins shot through the center of the group, fast as torpedoes.

  Kicking hard, I attempted to lure them in with the twirling routine. Two immediately swirled around me, swimming much faster than I was to keep up with my spin. These must have been juveniles; their bodies weren’t as spotted as some of the others. And they seemed a bit smaller. But they swam with an easy grace, their bodies perfectly shaped for their ocean environment.

  The way they kept eye contact and moved to stay in perfect sync made me feel as if they wanted to connect, wanted to engage. Their eyes contained an almost human intelligence. Curiosity. Innocence. I imagined they must have been amused by us humans with our awkward arms and googled eyes.

  A mother swam close by with a calf at her dorsal fin, a sign that these dolphins were comfortable in the presence of people in the water. Perhaps they viewed us as inept creatures who couldn’t do them harm. If only that were true.

  I envied their child-like innocence.

  Then, with some shared, silent signal, they all vanished.

  I came to the surface and looked around for the boat. The captain was waving us back onboard.

  After several attempts of sticking my head underneath to scan and seeing nothing while the other swimmers heaved themselves out of the water, I swam to the boat.

  Dalton was stationed at the stern. He offered his hand and pulled me out of the water and back onto the boat. “You looked like you were having a good time,” he said quietly.

  I grinned. I really had. I moved away so he could help other swimmers aboard.

  “Where’d the dolphins go?” I asked Kerrie.

  She shrugged. “Sometimes they just move on.”

  Once all the swimmers were back aboard, I moved next to Alison. “Did you enjoy that?” I asked.

  “Yes, I guess.” She shrugged. “I’ve loved dolphins my whole life. I’ve always dreamed of coming here.” She raised her leg to show me a tattoo at her ankle—a dolphin, arched in mid-leap. “I’ve read these accounts where dolphins can sense when someone is pregnant, you know. They hear the baby’s heartbeat or use their echolocation or something. And I thought maybe, I don’t know, that they’d be attracted to me. Maybe I’d…you know, there’d be a connection.” She shrugged again. “I don’t know. It was silly, I guess.”

  “I don’t think it was silly,” I said.

  “It was silly.” She sighed in resignation. “To think I could be one who…”

  I gave her a smile. “Maybe it was too much to expect of them in the short few minutes we had.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “So how far along are you?”

  She smiled, glowing. “Six months.”

  I had about five million other questions—about her, about Dalton, about their marriage—but none felt right to form into words and let out of my head.

  The others on the boat stirred, alerted by something in the water.

  The captain announced that there was another dolphin approaching off the port bow.

  The dolphin came right up next to the boat and bobbed in the water, holding itself upright.

  “This is the bottlenose dolphin,” Kerrie announced to the group, then quietly said to the captain, “Let’s move on.”

  The captain seemed confused by her command, but put the boat in gear.

  The dolphin squealed and chomped its jaws as it bobbed up and down.

  Was this the same dolphin who had been stranded? It had a satellite transmitter strapped to the dorsal fin, just like the other.

  “Looks like he wants a fish,” a man said.

  The dolphin spun around, then squealed again.

  “Is it trying to get our attention for something?” I asked Kerrie.

  She hesitated before answering, “It’s just curious is all.” To the entire group, she said, “Bottlenose dolphins can be quite animated.”

  “Can we get back in the water?” the same man asked.

  “No,” Kerrie said with an unexpected harshness. “Like I said, the spotted dolphins are tolerant of our presence, but the bottlenose can be unpredictable. They’re larger and stronger, too.”

  Another woman piped up. “I thought they were the friendly ones.”

  Kerrie patiently responded. “It’s not that they are friendly or unfriendly. Different dolphins in different parts of the world demonstrate different behaviors. For example, here in Bimini, the bottlenose dolphins have a unique feeding technique called crater feeding, which, as far as we know, they don’t do anywhere else in the world. They use their echolocation to investigate critters hiding just below the sand. Once they’ve discovered something of interest, they turn their bodies upside down, drilling their rostrums into the sand and pulling out their treat.

  “If we see a group today that is crater feeding, we might be able to get in the water to watch. It’s the only time they tolerate us. Otherwise, they flee.”

  “Except for this one.” The woman made it a statement, obviously annoyed by Kerrie’s explanation.

  “There’s always an exception,” Kerrie said with a fake smile.

  So what was it about that dolphin? A dolphin just like the one that was stranded?

  After another hour without seeing another dolphin, the boat made a turn, back toward the harbor.

  Dalton handed out tropical fruit punch served in paper cups as the captain increased speed.

  Back at the dock, Rod and Alison lingered after the other swimmers departed. “Let’s get lunch. Catch up,” Rod said to Dalton.

  “Uh, sure. I just need to get the boat swabbed and stuff locked down. Meet you over at the Bimini Big Game Club bar?”

  “Sure, that’s where we’re staying. See you there.”

  I gave them a wave and moved next to Dalton. He might be able to hide his emotions well most of the time, but I could sense his discomfort—the way he kept his eyes down, went right for the mop.

  “So,” I said. “Married?”

  He stopped what he was doing, stared at the deck for a full three seconds, then looked up at me. “We shouldn’t discuss this right now.”

  “Okay. But, married? You never told me you were married.” I tried to hide what I was feeling. What was I feeling? “But Dalton, you and I—” I clammed up. He was right; we shouldn’t discuss this right now.

  He paused from his mopping long enough to say, “We were young. And it was a Navy marriage. You know how that goes.”

  I did. I’d grown up a Navy brat and I’d seen marriages crumble under the pressure of long term separation, the long work hours, and the lack of choice in duty stations.

  He leaned on the mop and held my gaze. “She wanted a different life.”

  I nodded. “But Rod? You said he’s a SEAL, too.”

  “Probably didn’t re-up.”

  “I’ll ask him.”

  He started shaking his head. “Oh no—”

  “Oh, yes. I’m going.” I gave him a wink. “I wouldn’t
miss that world-famous Bimini Big Game Club bar salad for anything.”

  The fish stretched twelve feet in length, easily. Two blue marlins. Made of fiberglass. I think. All shiny with gloss, hanging on a wall at the entrance to the Bimini Big Game Club.

  Big fish seemed to be the theme around here. Probably since the 1930s, when Hemingway liked to hang out and string up anything he could snag out of the sea—bluefin tuna, blue marlin, swordfish, mako shark. Apparently he’d left quite a mark on the place. His fame brought prosperity in its wake, making Bimini a world-renowned fishing destination. Thankfully, as far as I could tell, he’d left the dolphins alone.

  Now, because of him, the quaint resort was a well-known historical landmark. It had a fresh coat of paint—tropical blue and yellow—yet somehow maintained the nostalgia.

  Honeymooners strolled by, hand in hand. Kids splashed in the pool and a nice breeze blew in from the harbor.

  Rod and Alison had chosen a table for four in the corner of the patio overlooking the marina. Rod rose from his chair as we approached and shook Dalton’s hand.

  Dalton pulled out the chair for me and placed his hand on my lower back as I moved to sit. In a low voice, he said, “This is my partner, Special Agent Poppy McVie.”

  I nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

  Alison looked at me skeptically, then eyed Dalton. “So, you two aren’t—”

  “We’re undercover,” Dalton said. “And you two are”—big pause—“on your honeymoon?”

  Rod nodded. “Dude, I meant to call you and—”

  Dalton held up a hand. “No need, man. We’re cool. It’s not like you owe me anything.” He smiled at Alison. “I’m happy for you. Really, I am.”

  A smile slowly came to her face and she seemed genuinely relieved.

  Dalton gestured toward her belly. “It’s what you always wanted.”

  She nodded as she grasped Rod’s hand in hers. “We’re gonna move home to Montana. Rod got a job at the post office.”

  An expression of nostalgia crossed Dalton’s face, for a fleeting moment, then it was gone. He was from Montana. Was Alison his high school sweetheart? Made sense. Had they planned to move back home? Start a family?

  “Last week, I stopped in to see your mom.”

  Dalton tensed, made the tiniest shake of his head.

  Alison ignored it. “She looks good, I mean, not great, but good. Sarah and I got her to wash her hair. She’s difficult but at least she’s still got spirit. Sarah said—”

  “Not now, Alison.” Dalton’s eyes flashed with warning.

  Alison shrank back in her seat a little and Rod put his hand on her thigh. Clearly these three knew something I didn’t. I felt a pang of jealousy. There was something very intimate about knowing someone’s past. What did I really even know about Dalton? Hell, it took me forever to find out his first name.

  The waitress, a middle-aged black Bahamian woman with a scowl on her face, appeared and they each ordered the famous mahi-mahi sandwich. I asked for a salad and the peas and rice. The guys and I ordered beers. Without acknowledgement, she turned and shuffled toward the kitchen.

  “Not very friendly around here, are they?” Rod said.

  Alison squeezed his hand and he frowned.

  “You have family in Montana?” I asked Alison, picking back up the conversation.

  She nodded. “And I’ve got a job lined up, too. I’m an elementary school teacher.”

  Dalton—the man who’d brawled with a serial killer last month and barely survived a knife in his thigh—married to an elementary school teacher. That I could not picture. But then again, I hadn’t seen this one coming either.

  “That sounds just ducky,” I said. It didn’t sound so ridiculous in my head before it came out of my mouth.

  A laughing gull squawked from the rooftop, mocking me.

  “Remember the old Johnson farm?” Alison asked Dalton. “We’ve bought it. Dad’s going to help us remodel. And we can lease the land.”

  “That’s nice,” Dalton said.

  Rod, clearly uncomfortable, cleared his throat. “So, you said you’re undercover. What’s going on? Are you at liberty to tell us?”

  Dalton nodded in acknowledgment. “Our discretion. Poppy and I work for Fish and Wildlife, but we’ve been assigned to a special task force. We’re here to investigate some issues with the dolphins.”

  “What kind of issues?” Alison asked. “The scientist said there weren’t any problems here, that it’s a healthy population. Is that not true?”

  “We’re not sure, to be honest,” Dalton said, looking to Rod. “Our directive is vague.”

  Rod gave him an understanding nod. “Government work.”

  Alison looked at him in confusion. “But I don’t understand. How can they send you to a foreign country without clear orders? Is that even legal?”

  Rod patted her thigh. “Honey, it’s the government. You don’t question. You do what your told.”

  “Okay, but how does that work, then?” Alison asked. “What do you do?”

  I answered. “We settle into our roles and see what we can ferret out.”

  Rod seemed satisfied, but Alison wanted to know more. “But what are you even investigating then? You just hang out, see what turns up?”

  Rod gave her a let-it-go look.

  “It frustrates me, too,” I said. “Coincidently, though,” I turned to Rod, “I did learn of a mass stranding a few years ago that was caused by Navy sonar. It literally blew some dolphins and whales out of the water. You ever hear anything about that?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “But I don’t know why I would have.”

  Our waitress approached with our meals and drinks on a large tray. She plopped baskets, brimming with fries, in front of the others, then, as if an afterthought, dropped my salad and bowl of peas and rice in front of me.

  “Ketchup’s there,” she said, pointing at the bottle at the center of the table, and walked away.

  Dalton shook a ketchup bottle upside down until a blob hit his plate with a splat. He handed the bottle to Rod, who shook the bottle upside down until a blob hit his plate with a splat. Alison stared at Rod, then back at Dalton, then shook her head.

  “How long are you here on the island?” Dalton asked.

  “Two weeks. Just got here,” Rod answered.

  A gull swooped down, snatched a french fry from Alison’s basket, causing her to jerk back from the table. It fluttered around the basket, then launched into flight again.

  The waitress appeared, shooing with her hands. “Don’t feed them birds. Don’t do it.”

  “What?” Alison said. “It just swooped in.”

  “Don’t feed them,” the woman repeated and turned her back, annoyed.

  We all looked to each other, our eyes flitting around, and burst out laughing.

  “So, the post office, huh?” Dalton said.

  Rod shrugged. “I worked there before I joined up. They gotta hold the job for veterans, so, I figured it’s solid. Good benefits, good retirement.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Dalton said, nodding as though he agreed that it was a good move.

  “Remember the crazy shit we used to do? That nightmare jump?”

  Dalton threw back his head and laughed. “Oh God, that was insane. Absolute worst night of my life. Hands down.”

  “Nightmare jump?” Alison clearly had no idea what they were talking about and I was dying to know what could make Dalton laugh like that. There was a camaraderie between Rod and him that was very different from the partnership we had.

  Rod looked at Dalton with barely contained amusement. “Can I tell it, dude? It’s probably fine now, right?”

  Dalton sat back in his seat. “Be my guest, man. Alison can’t get mad at me now and Poppy will probably appreciate it.

  “Okay, so we’ve got a jump mission to a remote area…”

  “Where?” Alison had a sparkle in her eye, enjoying seeing her husband telling a story.

  Dalton an
swered. “That’s classified, ma’am,” he said to her before winking at me.

  “Classified. Thank God,” Rod laughed, grabbing another fry and stuffing it in his mouth before continuing. “So, it’s a tandem night jump, which is fine except we’re jumping with civilian interpreters. My dude was totally fine, stuffed him onto my front pack like he was riding in a Babybjorn.”

  “You lucky bastard.” Dalton tipped up his beer and took a swig through his smile.

  “Dalton’s guy was as big as he is, a freaking anomaly for that part of the world, musta walked around his country like a freaking god. So, I’ve got the hobbit strapped to the front of me and Dalton’s got Godzilla and we’re getting ready to make the jump and Dalton’s monster decides he ain't going.”

  “Like trying to put a cat in a bathtub,” Dalton added. I can’t stop grinning imagining Dalton wrestle with Godzilla.

  “We got to our landing zone, so I have to make the jump with my little guy and leave Dalton to deal with crazy.”

  “I bear hugged him,” Dalton said, “and had to hip check him down the loading ramp. He freaked out and sent us into a death spiral. By the time I got that under control, we were cruising under the canopy through some heavy moisture.”

  “Canopy?” Alison asked.

  “The parachute,” I said. I knew a little of the lingo.

  “Heavy moisture?” Rod was rolling with laughter now.

  “We don’t have to tell that part,” Dalton warned but was starting to laugh pretty hard himself.

  Rod started back up, “We’re wearing night vision goggles, so it’s hard to tell what’s what, really, it all looks like pea soup.” Tears are free flowing down his face now.

  I had never seen Dalton so animated, so happy. SEAL life really was a different world and he obviously loved it. With his buddy, it was like he was free to be completely himself. “Bad joke, buddy, bad joke.”

  Alison and I were trying to play catch-up and it must have shown on our faces because Rod explained. “Vomit. Dalton’s thinking he’s flying through a cloud and picking up heavy moisture and really it’s Godzilla unloading his last meal.”

  “Omigod,” I covered my mouth and pushed the remains of my lunch away.