Turtle Reef

by Jennifer Scoullar

  Sharks had tiny receptors speckling the skin of their noses. These pores were filled with a conductive jelly that detected electrical currents around fish. Hitting sharks’ faces disrupted that unique sense and could sometimes deter them. It was worth a shot. The tiger nudged closer, and closer still until they were face to face. Now! She pounded the cylinder down on its sensitive nose and it veered away. Oh no. The tank had slipped from her grasp. The tiger approached again, more cautiously this time. Zoe made a fist and rained down more blows with all her strength, using fingernails to rake its skin and jamming a knuckle into its eye. The shark thrashed its massive head, throwing her sideways. Then it yawed left and swam away. For now.

  Zoe gasped for breath, every muscle burning, her energy gone. She felt like a soggy rag doll. Her head throbbed so loudly she couldn’t think any more. Wait, not just her head throbbing, but a white helicopter, coming in from the west. She fumbled for her whistle, waved wildly, screamed to the sky for help. Why was it flying so high? How would the crew spot her from way up there? Time seemed to stand still. She willed the copter to dip and turn, willed it so hard that it felt as if her brain was bursting.

  The helicopter did not deviate from its course. They hadn’t seen her. Tears welled in her eyes as it vanished from view. No, don’t cry, don’t waste precious water. Fuck. Look at that. Dorsal fins in the distance, slicing through the water. She couldn’t go on, she had no more strength. Zoe closed her eyes.

  It was then she sensed it, an odd prickling energy, like she was being zapped on the inside. Then a series of whistles and clicks, louder underwater than above. She opened her eyes and looked at the fast-approaching fins, at their shape, their curved trailing edge. Fear had made her brainless. Not sharks. Dolphins.

  Zoe smiled, laughed like a maniac and rinsed her mouth out with water again. Dolphins were symbols of good luck at sea. Maybe the copter had seen her after all? Maybe help was on its way? The pod arrowed straight for her, lifting her flagging spirits. Stupid, but she didn’t feel alone any more. There must have been nine or ten of them. Please let them stay around. The nearest dolphin had a distinctive drooping dorsal fin. It came closer, and closer again. The smile on Zoe’s face broadened, cracking her dry lips. But she didn’t mind the pain. Kane. The dolphin with the drooping dorsal fin was Kane.

  CHAPTER 27

  It seemed inconceivable that not too long ago she would have viewed Kane’s approach with apprehension, would have quailed at the memory of the bloody rake marks across Bridget’s shoulder. To see him now, porpoising around her, was like coming face to face with a dear old friend.

  Countless legends and, in more modern times, news reports told of dolphins helping humans in peril. Zoe had studied this phenomenon during her course. Victims of shark attacks described dolphins rushing to the scene, fending off the predators with high-speed rams. Drowning swimmers spoke of dolphins raising them to the surface to breathe, as they might do with one of their newborn infants. Was this what was happening? Was Kane here to save her?

  How different these circumstances were to when they’d last met. Then Kane had been captive in a human world, performing tricks in a zoo. But they were in his realm now and she was the helpless one. She felt the buzz of Kane’s sonar beneath her skin, something she’d never experienced back at the centre. Could he read her terror, her vulnerability? Were Zoe’s blood, lungs and beating heart as clear to Kane as if they lay on the outside of her body? He drew close and she rubbed his warm back, thankful for the companionship and the heat beneath her frozen fingers.

  Her mind was drifting: her parents’ faces before her, then gone; an image of Quinn and Josh. Then a moment from her studies came to her, something she’d read: that rescue behaviour in dolphins was not automatic or instinctive. Dr Diana Reiss, a hero of hers and one of the world’s leading experts in dolphin intelligence, had written about it. According to Reiss, dolphins made conscious decisions about whether to intervene or not. They were selective about who and in which circumstances they would help. Zoe prayed Kane might deem her worthy.

  He bobbed beneath her. Would he allow it? Zoe scrambled to rest her weary body on his and absorb his warmth. She clung to him, clutching his dorsal fin, overwhelmed by the gravity of the moment. Kane’s fin was firmer than it had been back at the centre, recovering from its droop. A life of freedom in the open ocean suited him. Kane’s heartbeat echoed through the hollow shell of her body, bestowing strength and courage where there had been none.

  How long she waited like that, sheltered and protected by the big dolphin, she couldn’t tell. From the vantage point of Kane’s back she twice saw tiger sharks in the distance. But there was safety in numbers, and the sharks steered well clear of the pod. Neither humans nor dolphins would be on the menu today. Clouds were building in the east, scudding across the sun, bringing some shady relief. Of course she couldn’t go on like this forever. Eventually she would have to find land. But this failed to distress her. She was caught in an extraordinary moment, aboard a wild dolphin that was also a patient friend, floating free in the wide blue ocean. And whether she lived or died seemed somehow unimportant.

  Later, exhaustion claimed her. Zoe’s hands locked onto Kane in an involuntary death grip. She drifted into semi-sleep, a blessed respite, and roused some minutes later to find they were on the move. The pod was travelling towards a shadow on the ocean. Zoe’s vision was blurry and she blinked to clear it. Yes. Thank god. A boat, and they were heading right for it. Zoe looked again. Not just any boat. The Seafarer. A shudder of fear passed through her, and she fought against it. She had to believe that Bridget was here to help.

  Zoe fell forwards to hug the big dolphin’s neck, losing balance, slipping from safety. The heedless pod continued, but Kane turned back and circled close. She reached for him, lunging again and again until her slight strength was spent. Each time he dodged away. ‘So I guess this is the end of the road for us.’ A mere murmur through chapped lips. The boat was drawing near. Zoe scrabbled for the whistle, fumbled for the signal mirror. Since losing Kane’s body warmth, her legs and arms were cramping up. She tried to whistle, but her mouth was dry. Stiff fingers lost hold of the mirror. It didn’t matter. Bridget had seen her, was waving and shouting. Kane sidled past one last time, allowing her to stroke his side. Then he vanished into the waves.

  Minutes later, Bridget hauled her onto Seafarer’s rear dive platform. ‘Thank God I found you.’ Zoe’s legs were jelly; she couldn’t stand. Crawling onto the shaded deck, she was only dimly aware of the horrified expression on Bridget’s face. Zoe asked for a drink but her voice didn’t work, so she pointed to a water bottle sitting on the seat. ‘Oh, sorry,’ said Bridget. ‘Of course.’

  Water had never tasted so good. ‘More.’

  Bridget filled up the bottle again and wrapped a blanket around Zoe’s shoulders. ‘Here.’ She handed Zoe a tube of Vaseline.

  Zoe smoothed the soothing ointment on her lips, ran her tongue over them. ‘How long was I out there?’ It hurt to talk.

  ‘Five hours maybe . . .’

  Five hours? It had felt like five days. ‘Why?’ she managed.

  ‘The anchor failed,’ Bridget said. ‘And the boat drifted without me noticing. When I tried to start it, the engine kept stalling and . . .’ Zoe stared into the middle distance, barely listening to her cockamamie explanation. ‘I called search and rescue,’ said Bridget. ‘Didn’t you see the helicopter?’

  Zoe shook her aching head. ‘No . . . I mean why did you come back?’ Bridget fell silent. The look in her eyes was unmistakable. They understood each other. Her further protestations were merely for show. Zoe held up a hand. ‘Can we go home?’ Bridget nodded. Were those tears tracking down her high cheekbones? Was she sorry? Zoe pulled her knees into her chest and drew the blanket tight around her. You couldn’t tell with Bridget. She was an unknown quantity. In some ways Zoe had felt safer with Kane, lost at sea.

  When they arrived back at the dock, nobody was waiting. Zoe didn’t know
what she’d expected, her mind was so fuzzy. An ambulance maybe? Bridget helped her from the boat onto the pier. Zoe’s legs were still weak but at least she could walk now. ‘Sit down,’ said Bridget, guiding her to a timber bench. ‘Do you feel well enough to go home or do you want to see a doctor?’

  Zoe didn’t know how to answer. She did want to see somebody, desperately, but it wasn’t a doctor. She wanted to see Quinn: to warn him, to tell him his girlfriend was a madwoman, a homicidal maniac.

  ‘Stay here,’ said Bridget. ‘I’ll go get the car.’ She hurried away.

  Zoe rose unsteadily to her feet. What a relief to see the back of Bridget. Now, to get home, ring Quinn. She tried to run, but her legs failed her, so she started for the shack at a shambling walk. Was that a car? How had Bridget returned so quickly? Zoe concentrated on walking faster, on putting one foot after the other. There was no way she was going to accept a lift from that madwoman.

  A jeep pulled into the carpark, but not Bridget. Quinn. A rush of relief almost toppled her over. Then he was by her side, offering a steadying hand, his face a mask of concern. ‘Jesus, are you okay? Bridget rang and told me what happened.’ He tenderly brushed back the hair from her sunburnt face. She’d daydreamed about that same gesture many, many times. In her imagination he’d always followed it with a kiss and, in her dazed state, she was surprised when the kiss didn’t come. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘I’m taking you to the hospital.’

  It was early evening before they pulled up at the rear of the shack. Quinn had wanted to take her to the guesthouse at Swallowdale, but Zoe had resisted. She didn’t want to stay anywhere near Bridget. Physically she was much improved, apart from an overarching exhaustion. The need to sleep was almost irresistible, but first she had something to say.

  Quinn opened the door and carried her, actually carried her, inside. Despite her fatigue, she felt a shock of pleasure to be in his arms. He deposited her on the living room couch and fetched a blanket and pillow. Then he pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. ‘Are you hungry?’ She’d had nothing to eat except tea and biscuits at the hospital, and her depleted body craved nourishment but her mind was somewhere else, planning the best way to break the news to him about Bridget. Zoe leaned forward and placed a hand on Quinn’s arm. She was ready, more than ready, but something in his expression gave her pause.

  Quinn’s tongue traced his lips. The expression in his clear grey eyes grew urgent. ‘There’s something important I want to say.’ His intensity bewildered her, chased away her carefully-chosen words. ‘I’ve hidden my feelings for too long. You’re always on my mind Zoe. Right there, whatever I’m doing, wherever I look. You’re there in the cane fields and the clouds, the river and the rain. And today, when I almost lost you . . . well, it’s time to be honest, time to stop playing it safe. I’m ending things with Bridget, tonight.’ Quinn caught hold of her hands. ‘I love you Zoe, don’t want to be without you. I need to know if you feel the same way.’

  It took her a moment to catch her breath. ‘Can’t you tell?’

  He exhaled and squeezed her hands. ‘I wasn’t sure. You’re a hell of a change for me Zoe King, and each time I thought we were getting close, you’d start a bloody big fight. First about Aisha, then Josh, and the chemicals and Bridget . . .’

  A knock came at the door, startling them. Quinn released Zoe’s hands as Bridget entered uninvited. ‘How are you, Zoe?’ she said. ‘What did the hospital say?’ Zoe huddled down and pulled the blanket higher.

  Quinn got to his feet. ‘She has to rest up for a day or two, but there’s no lasting damage.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Bridget spoke with a brittle gaiety. Her searching gaze travelled over their faces. ‘I’ll make us something to eat, shall I? What would you like, Zoe? Something light? An omelette perhaps, or a toasted sandwich?’

  ‘Anything.’ The thought of eating food prepared by Bridget made her gag. It would probably be poisoned. Bridget went into the kitchen. This was her best chance. Zoe clutched Quinn’s arm. ‘It wasn’t an accident.’ Her voice was scratchy and weak.

  ‘I’ll get you some water.’

  ‘No.’ She grabbed his arm tighter. ‘Listen to me. It wasn’t an accident. Bridget left me out on the reef deliberately.’

  Quinn’s expression grew troubled. ‘You’re in shock — ’

  Zoe shook her head. ‘Something’s wrong with Bridget. I need you to believe me. Today was . . . I nearly died, Quinn.’

  ‘Zoe . . .’

  ‘She’s been throwing away the specimens I collected for the dugong project. I found them in the bin.’ Zoe picked up her phone, then took hold of his hand, bracing against his arm to help pull herself to her feet. ‘Come and look.’

  Zoe shuffled to the bedroom still wrapped in the blanket and holding her mobile. She pulled open the wardrobe door and pointed to the cardboard box on the floor. ‘There.’ Quinn picked it up and flipped through the labelled sample bags inside. ‘I gave these to Bridget,’ said Zoe. ‘She said she’d sent them off for analysis, but instead she threw them away. I don’t believe there is any research project. I don’t believe a word Bridget says.’

  With clumsy fingers, she checked the emails on her phone again. Still nothing from Queensland Uni. Where on earth was the list of projects they’d promised to send her? She could really do with some concrete proof right about now.

  ‘I don’t know what to think,’ admitted Quinn. ‘But to say she left you out on the reef because of this? Do you realise what you’re saying? Bridget was the one who called in the search and rescue helicopter. You said yourself that you saw it. She was the one who found you for Christs’ sake. Bridget saved your life.’

  Zoe shook her head and shut the bedroom door. She’d had plenty of time to think this through, had thought about nothing else. ‘I don’t think that helicopter was looking for me at all. It was way too high for one thing, and the wrong colour to be from Queensland Search and Rescue. I can picture the pattern beneath.’ She scrolled through google images until she found a photo of a blue and white Channel Nine News helicopter. She showed it to Quinn. ‘I think this was it, no, I’m sure of it.’

  Bridget knocked on the door, making Zoe jump. ‘What’s going on in there? Your sandwich is ready.’

  ‘We’ll be out in a minute.’

  Quinn scratched his beard. ‘Television station copters often help out with searches.’

  ‘Yes, but if that was the case, why wasn’t it on the news? The tele-vision at the hospital was tuned to Channel Nine the whole time we were there. Not a word about a missing diver.’

  ‘If Bridget meant to leave you on the reef,’ said Quinn, ‘why did she then turn round and rescue you?’

  ‘I think it was a coincidence that the helicopter flew overhead,’ said Zoe, keeping her voice low. ‘When Bridget saw it she panicked, thinking that it might have spotted me. She couldn’t afford not to go back.’

  The door swung open and Bridget walked in. Her face was white, giving the lie to her smile. ‘Anything I should know about?’ The cardboard box of samples lay on the floor in full view. Zoe moved in front of it, stumbling as she did. Quinn offered her a supportive arm. Bridget’s eyes gleamed keen as a hawk. She did not miss the look that passed between them, and the smile died on her lips. ‘What’s wrong? What has Zoe been saying.’ She spotted the cardboard box. ‘What’s that?’ Her voice grew shrill. ‘What are you trying to hide?’

  Bridget pulled the box out from behind Zoe and picked up a couple of the specimen bags.

  ‘Do you recognise them?’ Zoe was too tired to pretend any more. One way or another she wanted some answers.

  Bridget stared, open-mouthed. ‘Where did they come from?’ Zoe could see her mind working frantically to come up with a plausible explanation. Quinn was no fool; maybe it was best to say nothing at all, let Bridget dig herself in deeper. ‘Karen was meant to post those off. I have no idea how they wound up in the bin. Maybe she got mixed up? How funny if the university got bags of dead fish, instead
of Zoe’s specimens.’

  ‘How did you know they were in the bin?’ asked Quinn quietly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just what I said. How did you know Zoe found the samples in the bin?’

  ‘Didn’t she say?’ He shook his head. ‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?’ Bridget inspected the bags. ‘They’ve got crud all over them.’

  Blood surged to Zoe’s head in an angry rush. She couldn’t listen any more, couldn’t stand one more lie. ‘You left me out on the reef on purpose.’ Bridget’s face drained of all colour. ‘I know that, you know that . . . I’m going to the police.’

  ‘Now, hang on,’ said Quinn, ‘there must be some sensible explanation.’

  ‘There is.’ Bridget fastened cold eyes on her. ‘Zoe’s insane, throwing wild accusations around like this. She’s done the same thing to you, Quinn, threatening to report you and the other cane-growers to the authorities, accusing you of using Dieldrin.’ She spoke as if Zoe wasn’t in the room. ‘Don’t listen to her, Quinn. She’s a born troublemaker and on top of that she’s fired. She can pack her bags and go back to Sydney. I don’t want that woman to ever set foot in the Reef Centre again.’

  Zoe sank down on the bed. This last barb came as a jolt. She hadn’t properly thought through what exposing Bridget might mean. A lump rose in her throat. To never again work with the dolphins, or see the tilt of their head while they watched her. To never see Echo released. And what about the turtles? And what about Einstein? Tears stung her eyes and her waning headache returned with a vengeance. She couldn’t bear it. It would shatter her heart into pieces so tiny you wouldn’t be able to see them.

  ‘Can we all please calm down?’ Quinn put the box of samples back in the wardrobe. Then he took hold of Bridget’s hand. The gesture provoked in Zoe a furious resentment, but she remained silent. Her exhausted brain had enough insight left to temper her tongue. She mustn’t act on impulse. There was nothing left to say without proof. Tomorrow, one way or another, she would get hard evidence to confirm that Bridget was lying.