“Would you trust me with yours?” he said. A feeling that he would be with her for the rest of his life washed over him as softly as a warm summer rain.
He crossed over and sat on the bunk next to her.
“Matthew…”
“Penny, listen to me. I had this chance to make something of myself. By getting a degree I could do finally something worthwhile, only now maybe it’s all going down the drain. And it’s too late to turn back.”
She smiled, let out a short laugh. “You are a romantic!”
She started to get up, when suddenly he held her by the shoulders. “Listen to me! All I can see for sure is you. I trust you, whatever the consequences, and…”
She pulled in a quick short breath. “Where is your patience now?”
He could not say anything. He let her go and sat on the bed looking at her, their breath the only movement. Then her fingers swam through his hair and the heat from her body poured into him, and they submerged as one into the depths of an uncharted sea.
CHAPTER 14
Matthew woke at dawn and witnessed the first light of day gleaming on the rim of the porthole. He rolled his head over on the pillow and looked at Penny as she slept. The look of world-weary toughness that always seemed to lie just behind her open face had vanished in the night. Her breath flowed in and out in slow silent waves.
He dressed as quietly as he could and crept toward the door, shoes in hand. On the way, he scooped up the binoculars. He glanced at her as he went out. She was still asleep. He waited until he had reached the open deck before putting his shoes on.
Emory and Malcolm were up on the fo’c’sle, still working their shift operating the tracking gear. Matthew climbed the steps, and went to stand near them, wondering what they had found about the lead whale. The warmth of the bed was still with him, however, and he chose not to speak right away, but to have a fresh look of his own. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked through the binoculars.
The flukes of the grays were still rising and falling, as precise as metronomes.
Entrainment.
That was the word he had been trying to remember: moving together as if one.
They looked completely coordinated, perhaps even more so than the day before. He could imagine their sound over the steady drone of the engine, of their rising and falling, of their breath. There was not yet enough light to be completely sure, but he saw a large gray at the head of the whales.
“Is that her, the whale in the lead?” Matthew asked Emory.
From behind the beard and glasses came his reply: “Yep.”
“Still fifty-three?”
“Yep.”
The big man sat as if immovable, apparently not in the mood for talk. Next to him, Malcolm had closed his eyes. They had been up all night. Matthew peered through the binoculars again and asked, “Sleepy?”
“We’re fine,” they said together.
Matthew brought the binoculars down and looked their way. They were both staring straight ahead, looking slightly dazed. It felt so weird, he just wanted to leave, but instead said, “Sorry. I know you must be tired, but I was wondering if you’d had any new ideas about the discrepancy in the infrared scans?”
In unison, they shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders. Malcolm looked about half the size of the hulking figure next to him.
“Makes no sense, no sense at all!” they cried out simultaneously. “No sense, oh dearie, dearie me, ha ha ha, hyuk…”
Their laughter alternated between belly laughs and snorts as they attempted to suck enough air back in to stay conscious. All Matthew could say was, “Anything…happen out here last night, guys?”
“Not really. Not a thing. No una cosa,” they said, again completely synchronized. They looked at him as if nothing had happened, then their eyes went up, as if to gaze at the wind.
Suddenly they both gulped in as much air as they could. Malcolm held his breath while Emory said, “We could sure, could sure use something to eat! Any chance?” His eyes had become huge and his wide grin must have used muscles left idle since childhood. He looked like a different person. He looked crazy. Malcolm finally let his breath out, forming a small “o” with his mouth. Both looked oddly refreshed. They almost glowed. Although the June dawn was cutting cold, drops of sweat started to appear on their faces. A thin line of drool oozed from the corner of Emory’s mouth.
“Breakfast, sure” Matthew said. “No problem. Coffee?”
“You know,” Emory said, snapping his head around to look at Matthew, “it must be all the excitement, but I don’t feel tired, not in the least. How about you, Malcolm?”
“Same here, I’m fine. No coffee, no tea. Reeeally hungry, though!”
Emory laughed at this like a drunken Santa Claus. “Yes, and thirsty, for sure on that, but no coffee. Fetch juice. Juice! We’re starving and dying of thirst! Dying, we say! And a KFC bucket! Fried chicken!”
“Si,” Malcolm added, elbowing Emory. “The beeeg one, grande—no, two! Two! One for me and one for thee. Arwk! And something for the parrot—”
“But we won’t—“
“—Eat him,” Emory added, completing the sentence. “We love birds.”
“ Pronto, si!” Malcolm said, waving his arms like a bird.
They giggled like children.
Matthew backed away, smiling. “I’ll see what I can find in the galley, guys.” He kept edging back while attempting a carefree good-bye wave.
What is this?
He climbed down to the first deck and quickened his step as he moved out of sight. The door to Penny’s cabin opened as he approached.
He slipped in and quietly closed the door, saying, “You were asleep, and I wanted to check on the whales.”
“Come here,” she said.
He sat on the bed next to her.
“No expectations. No explanations.”
He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss. “Impossible.”
“And no excuses. Make an effort, or I’ll break your neck.”
“A sweet death,” he said and kissed her again.
She smiled. “So, how are they this morning?”
“The whales are fine and apparently all there, but Emory and Malcolm are nuts.”
“I suppose.”
“No, really. But I promised I’d bring them some breakfast, and I better do it soon, or they’ll start eating the equipment.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ll tell you in the galley. Please come. I could use your help, and I don’t want to go back to them alone.”
“One quick honeymoon,” Penny said. She started to get up but Matthew gently pushed her back to the pillow and took her shoulders tenderly in his hands. He saw himself reflected in her eyes, swimming there like a creature of the sea.
“There will be more time someday,” he said.
“So you all think.”
There was no one else in the galley, which was odd. Usually Mateo would have been up early to prepare breakfast for the crew. Matthew scrambled eight extra large eggs and made toast, while Penny threw together hash browns from some leftover potatoes. He filled her in on his encounter with Emory and Malcolm.
“Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” Penny said. “Can’t imagine one without the other. They’re roommates, you know.”
“You should have heard them. And seen them. It really gave me the creeps.” He scraped the eggs out of the skillet onto some enameled tin plates.
“That’s a huge parcel of eggs, isn’t it, even for those two guys?” Penny said, dumping the hash browns onto what space remained.
“Trust me, I don’t want to get my hand eaten. And bring the whole pitcher of juice, please. Any fried chicken around?”
“Huh?”
“Forget it. Here goes.”
He started toward the hatch, and Penny slipped in front to hold it open. She followed closely behind as he made his way up the steps of the companionway. They found Emory and Malcolm still at their seat
s, but now they were staring at the water, ignoring the equipment.
“What took you?” Emory said. “Oh, but the smell! Yes! Worth the waiting.”
Their heads swiveled toward Penny. They saluted and said together, “Sweetie pie!” before breaking into giggles.
Emory grabbed a plate and began shoveling scrambled eggs toward his gaping mouth with a piece of toast. He tried to speak now and then, but was incomprehensible. Malcolm just used his hand, taking small gobs of eggs, tilting his head back and sliding them down with a goose-like swallow.
“Mumpf…good…real gummpf,” Emory said.
As he spoke, he kept nodding his head, gulping the eggs like a penguin downing a herring. Matthew was appalled at their gluttony, but tried to keep the semblance of a smile on his face. If Penny was alarmed, other than her eyebrows being a little higher than usual she didn’t show it.
“It won’t run away, boys,” she said. “Whoa, slow down. Here, try a fork, Malcolm. Think of it as a game.” She slid the fork into his yielding paw and gently wrapped his fingers around the handle. He looked up at her gratefully, while the bits of scrambled egg plastering his chin slowly slid off into his lap. He stared at the fork as if he had never seen one before. Finally, he got it working and seemed pleased that his hand could use it. After a few endless minutes, the men began to slow down, both at the same time. There was little left to eat, anyway.
“Aw…that was great,” Emory said although he suddenly seemed puzzled. Malcolm had stopped and looked at Penny as he mumbled, “He is the egg man, egg man, egg man…”
“Anything else you guys need?” Matthew asked in as casual a voice as he could muster.
“Looks like another terrific day,” Emory only said. He moved his focus back to the control board. Malcolm soon followed and they quickly became absorbed in the task of getting the tracking gear back on target from where it had drifted while they ate.
Penny and Matthew gave each other a nod and walked away. On the aft deck, they took a long look at the whales then headed back down to her cabin. No one else was in the passageways, which again seemed odd. Perhaps the excitement of the evening before had tired them all out.
She flopped down on the bed, arms crossed loosely against her front. Matthew sat on the edge of the bed. Penny seemed to be looking inward.
“If it had gone on,” she finally said, “we would have had to ship them back to port, heavily sedated. I’ve seen people like that who suddenly get violent. Emory’s built like a bear, and I would hate to see him become unhooked on a ship.”
“They don’t seem to be causing any harm or bother.”
“We definitely need to let Andrew know,” she said. “Listen. Malcolm and Emory don’t look like the kind of guys that do drugs, especially on the job, but they seemed more than just a little stoned.”
“Emory was so serious last night, and Malcolm just generally awkward, but not this morning. I wish you had heard their synchronized chatter. They’d have to rehearse for hours to match each other’s tone and speed that closely.”
“Their egg inhalation act was enough.” She looked at him and lowered her eyelids. “You know, I’m hungry now.”
“Must be the sea air.”
CHAPTER 15
Thumbah thumbah thumbaa thumbaaa…
“What’s that?” Penny said, laying half on top of him.
“I’d say the Air Force has arrived. Great.” He pushed himself up off the bed and twisted around to see out the porthole. The hull of a large helicopter was sweeping by, “USN” emblazoned on its tail.
“They’re here, all right, though in a Navy chopper. Looks like they’re getting ready to lower someone down.”
“Can’t they land on the helipad?”
“Not this thing, it’s as big as a semi.”
The sucking of the rotors made a sickening pressure in his ears. The engine started to throttle up again.
“He’s right over us. We’d better go up.”
Penny lurched out of bed and buttoned her shirt.
“The whales can’t be loving this.”
“It sounded like they made their approach from behind us, so maybe they’ll be all right.”
He rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes. As he was slipping on his cross trainers, she leaned over his back, brushed the hair back from his ear and quickly kissed him. They headed out to the companionway. As they rushed up the steps, the huge helicopter seemed to blot out the sky as it relentlessly chopped the air to chum. It hovered above the ship, becoming almost a fixed point. A man in uniform swung out of the helicopter’s hatch, suspended on a tethered sling.
Penny gazed up at the man who had become a slowly oscillating pendulum. “He’s smiling, at least.”
Dirk and another of the Valentina’s crew steadied the man as he neared the open deck. When his feet made contact, he unhooked a clasp and hand signaled to one of the chopper’s crewmen who knelt in the open hatchway. Almost immediately the line retracted. An orange plastic net with bundles of bags was then hooked on and let down.
“Doesn’t look like just a quick visit to me!” Becka yelled, loudly enough for everyone to hear, even over the din of the chopper.
Their visitor had meanwhile climbed out of the sling, and hooked it back on the line. The chopper’s crew hauled it up and began to slowly slip astern in the Valentina’s wake. The man left on deck was dressed in the uniform of an air force officer. He looked back at the hulking machine floating incongruously in the air and saluted just before they swung around and sped away.
He advanced toward Thorssen who greeted his salute with a simple handshake and a few words. The blondish officer was younger than Matthew, maybe in his late twenties. His easy smile complemented his relaxed and confident posture. He had the bearing of someone who was used to being reckoned the sharpest knife in the drawer.
“Becka’s right,” Matthew said to Penny. “Judging from his gear, he’s going to be here for a while.”
“Along with some missing pieces of our puzzle, most likely.”
“Maybe, but will he let us play with them?”
Instead of answering, she walked over to the young officer and introduced herself. When she got an even wider smile back, Matthew was annoyed, but even more annoyed for feeling the way he suddenly did. He was debating whether to introduce himself as well, when a female voice with a tone like an automated answering service came from over his shoulder. “The welcoming ceremony seems more than adequately covered,” she said.
Mary Sims, the whale cataloger. She stared at the new arrival, who was still grinning at Penny.
“Such a bore,” she said, coming around to face him. “Breakfast?”
CHAPTER 16
Matthew followed Mary down the steps to the galley. Mateo was up now. He must have slept late like the others, but it still seemed odd that the ship’s cook had slipped up that way. The smell of pancakes, however, was reassuring.
Jack Ripler came in just after them and sat down across from Mary and Matthew.
“Good morning, Matthew. Morning, Mary,” Ripler said.
“And a good morning to you, Jack,” Mary answered, a slight strain in her voice.
“Sleep well, Matthew?” Ripler said with more than a hint of a sly smile on his lips. Secrets did not last long on a ship.
“Just fine, thank you.”
“Glad to hear that. Sometimes it’s hard on our new arrivals. The rolling and rocking all night long.”
Ripler was baiting him, but he didn’t have to bite.
“I’ve been at sea in far worse conditions than these, Jack. I’m used to it.”
“Ah yes, the noble life of the fisherman,” Ripler said. “Noble, but wearisome. Not here on our ship, though, where there are now new headlines every day. And with yet another new gentleman caller, I’m sure we can look forward to even more. All thanks to you.”
“Jack, please…” Mary said.
“Anything new on our zombie whale, Mary?”
She waited fo
r him to look at her, but he gazed straight ahead. She cleared her throat. “I have compared the photos we have of our lead whale with another of Black Beauty. There are some more recent ones, but we don’t have them in our database yet.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Ripler said, still not bothering even to glance her way. “And of course, we can’t download them because we lack the capacity. And we lack the capacity because the intrepid Doctor Bell doesn’t want us to loosen his tenacious grip on the past by being distracted by the present.”
He sighed and looked at Matthew. “Sorry. Just ignore all that. I’m a grinch before my morning coffee.” He finally looked at Mary. “So, what did you find out—wait, let me guess. Dead ringer, right? Pun intended.”
“Yes, that is right. They might as well have been twins.”
“That’s quite rare, isn’t it?” Matthew said. “I mean, multiple births?”
Mary paused a few seconds to collect herself. Her pinched forehead was an island of tension in an otherwise unlined face.
“In some instances, what were thought to be multiple births were adoptions. Twins may not even be possible. In any case, it would not just be a question of birth characteristics,” she said. “Many of a whale’s identifying marks are the result of accidents. Even twins would be different.”
“And this whale that washed up?” Ripler asked.
“Some students from Oceanic in California were the first to check it over in any useful way,” she said. “They failed to get permission for autopsy, the local government just wants to dispose of them before…”
She looked across the table and lifted her coffee, her hand shaking slightly. “It gets disgusting rather quickly. They usually bury them at the local landfill. Because they are so large, they have to cut them up first.”
“Yes,” Ripler said, “chain saws aren’t exactly the tools of surgery, but the evidence must be buried. I mean the stench. Or are they the same in this case?”
Far From The Sea We Know Page 10