by J E Feldman
After I determine this face doesn’t move either, I sit back on my heels and contemplate everything that’s happened since yesterday. What can all of this mean?
A dolphin rapid-fire clicks, startling me so badly that I yelp. In response to my reaction, the dolphin squawks and then splashes water at me with its flipper.
“It’s you!” I say as I jump onto my feet and hurry to the water’s edge. “You’re back!”
The dolphin whistles.
“Did you leave the Magic 8-Balls for me?” I ask, pointing over my shoulder.
The dolphin clicks and squeaks then leaps out of the water several times.
I take that as a yes.
“Do you need my help with something?” I inquire, admittedly feeling a little foolish, since I am talking to a dolphin, but in my heart, I know this dolphin is special.
The dolphin clicks and leaps some more, then a couple of others join it, the trio creating a cacophony of sounds as they excitedly splash around. I watch in awe and fascination.
The first dolphin rises out of the water, as if standing on its flukes, and then the two others dip beneath the surface, disappearing for a moment, but then reappearing with something balanced on their beaks—like some kind of impromptu ocean circus act. I can’t quite make out what either item is, but when the main dolphin gracefully leaps underwater and its flukes appear in all its glory, I get the sense to duck, and I’m right. Like expert volleyball players, one of the dolphins tosses up its mysterious object, setting it up perfectly for the main dolphin to spike it to shore. The boxy looking object crashes onto the sand and skids straight toward me.
I frantically manage to evade it, but when it finally comes to a complete halt, I crawl back toward it. As I near, I note that it’s definitely a laptop. There’s some seaweed wrapped around it and it looks a little worse for wear—like it’s been to the bottom of the ocean and back, but it’s still a laptop—albeit, a very waterlogged, broken one.
The dolphin shrills out a warning call and I look up just in time to see the other object whizzing toward me. I shift out of the way, narrowly escaping a ding in the head, and then I chase after the soggy, slimy movie case. The plastic is warped and faded, but I can tell by the iconic bicycle image in front of the full moon that its E.T.
Without warning, other objects begin to land around me—all discarded garbage of the sea that are in various forms of decomposition, but each is identifiable and, most importantly, telling, like the rotary phone, and the ALF collectibles. The theme is clearly revolving around friendly alien life forms and communication.
“Do you want me to phone home?” I ask even though I know that isn’t right. “Oh! Do you need my help so you can call your planet?” That sounds better, but the way the dolphins chatter back makes me think I’m still not on the right track.
Then another object comes sailing toward me—this one an America Online floppy disk. I lift it out of the sand and study it for a long moment. The laptop, the phone, the disk…
“Do you need my laptop?” I inquire, my attention shifting back to the main dolphin as it excitedly bobs up and down frantically. “You need to send me a message through the web?” I add, just to be certain I’m on the right track. When the other dolphins join in the merriment, I figure I’m onto something. “Okay…” I finally say, but then I’m suddenly unsure of leaving. What if I’m not right about this? Will they wait for me? “Stay here,” I order, as if they’re obedient dogs that will listen. “I’ll be back either way!”
The dolphins actually wave their flippers at me. It’s bizarre and beautiful, and for a moment, I’m too awestruck to move. Then they start clicking and squeaking, so I spin on my heels and hurry to the house. Several members of the staff are already up and moving around, beginning their day. I toss my backpack on the counter and wave at everyone as I blast by. As I round the corner for the stairs though, I stop short. John is standing there, waiting for me with a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck.
“Good morning” he says, eyeing me in that disapproving fatherly way of his. “You should have let me know you wanted a morning stroll and I would have accompanied you.”
“Oh…well…” I squirm under the intense pressure. “I didn’t want to wake you…”
“It would have been no bother, malenʹkyy heniy, but I’m glad I watched from a distance, as it seems your dolphins have returned.”
“You saw!” I say jubilantly, rather than annoyed by the invasion of privacy. “I told you they were special! Did you see they sent me messages through objects—like one big, crazy guessing game!”
John says nothing to that. In fact, he seems downright…confused. It’s an expression that’s never graced his stoic, hardline face before so I actually become a little nervous. “You did see them, right…?” Or had I hallucinated the entire thing?
“Yes…but that is…the most unusual dolphin behavior…”
Suddenly, I understand his tone. It’s disbelief; the kind that’s specifically reserved for adults who have stopped believing in miracles and fairy tales a long time ago, but who have just been confronted by some type of information that brings everything back into question.
“Will you at least come with me…?” I motion in the direction of my father’s office, since I know he has his laptop all hooked up and ready to go. “They want to send me a message…”
John crosses his arms over his chest, his brows deeply furrowed. I hold my breath, waiting in anticipation. A moment goes by. Then another. Finally, just as I’m beginning to turn blue, he nods. The air rushes out of my lungs as I bounce with glee. Then I zoom by him and rush into my father’s office. I once again stop short when I see my father is already up, dressed, and sitting behind his desk.
“Bat’ka,” I say as he looks up at me, clearly just as surprised that I’m up and rearing to go at such an early hour.
“Petra?” He looks at me for a moment longer, then he shifts his attention to John. “Is something wrong?” he inquires, his curiosity morphing to concern.
“Yes!” I say before John can get a word in edgewise. “The dolphins are back!” I explain, and then, in a rush, I tell him about everything that happened at the beach. “So I have to get on the web, Bat’ka, because they’re going to send me a message…” I consider that for a moment. “Or maybe I have to send them a message?”
“Petra,” my father begins in that tone of his…the one that’s being delicate because he has to deliver bad news. “Dolphins can’t send mess—”
I’m not sure what stops him from continuing so abruptly, but a full minute ticks by as he just stares at his laptop. Finally, he leans closer to the monitor, studying it intently.
“Svyatyy…” he mumbles, clearly in disbelief as he reaches for the keyboard.
Something about his astonished reaction stirs up excitement deep within me. I hurry around the desk and squeal when I see the screen has gone dark and the words “Hello, Petra” are emblazoned in digital green.
“John, look!” I shout as I leap in my excitement, thrilled and amazed that it worked. “The dolphins are messaging me!”
The screen changes to a couple of letters and numbers that read, “19° 50' 5.39" N by -66° 45' 9.59 W.” I don’t recognize what that might mean, but my father is clearly startled by their appearances, though I’m not sure why.
“Take her,” my father orders John.
Without question, John comes over and grabs my arm, but for once, I actually pull away from him. “Bat’ka, please—”
“Go!” he commands, and John drags me away.
I struggle against his iron-clad grip and somehow manage to break free just as we enter the kitchen. I bolt for the back door and nearly collide with one of the housekeepers, but she dodges me just in the nick of time, and in the process, sidesteps right into John’s way. The last thing I see before I rush outside is the two of them falling onto the Spanish tile in a heap.
“Petra!” John bellows, but I don’t stop. I just run—faster than
I ever have in my life.
As the path turns to sand and the shore comes into view, I see them; the pod of dolphins. It seems as though they’re waiting for me, and in my heart, I know I’m right about that. If I’m wrong, which I’m hoping I’m not, then the worst that will happen is the dolphins will simply disappear into the ocean and I’ll be left alone, John undoubtedly furious, but always forgiving.
If I’m right, what will happen when I get into the water? Will the dolphins take me to their alien leader? Will I be safe? Will they take me with them? Or—and this is a big one—is this some kind of trap?
When John and my father holler for me, I push all of my fears and questions aside and pick up my pace, pushing my body to its absolute limits. In response, the dolphins move closer to the shore and group together in a circle. They’re waiting for me. As I finally make it into the ocean, my heart is hammering so wildly in my chest that I fear I may pass out before I can make it to them. I splash my way into the Atlantic, the dolphins seeming to frenzy the closer I get.
They don’t swim away. They don’t scatter to the sea. They wait for me, and as I hit waist-deep water, they begin to circle me, their clicking and squawking nearly deafening me.
“Petra!” My father shouts, his voice tinged with fear.
“I’m okay, Bat’ka!” I call without looking at him, my attention on the dolphin nearest me.
I gingerly reach out my hand and the dolphin swims close enough so my fingertips brush against its dorsal fin. I grab on and the dolphin takes off, sweeping me off my feet and towing me along with it. The other dolphins circle around us, and as we move into deeper water, I shift to grab onto the dolphin’s dorsal fin with both hands.
“Petra!” my father calls again, this time sounding angry. “Let go!”
John calls for me as well, but I’m already tremendously far away from them now.
“I’m okay!” I call out again, not sure if they hear me or not, but I want to let them know I’m truly unafraid, because I somehow know I’m going to be fine, and this is only the beginning of a great adventure.
It isn’t until later—when I can no longer see land—that I truly begin to worry about my decision. Am I safe out here? Aren’t there sharks? And what if I accidentally let go? How will I get back to shore without them? The dolphins must sense my unease because they begin chattering softly, and with the exception of the dolphin I’m holding onto, they take turns leaping in and out of the water, almost as if they’re trying to cheer me up. I try to relax. I try to have faith that I’ve made the right decision, and just when I’m about to panic, my father’s yacht comes into view.
Of course he’s following me. I’m not sure why I didn’t think he would.
With the knowledge that my father is trailing behind, I’m once again able to focus on the magic of the moment. I’m swimming with dolphins. I’m going to meet…what? Aliens? I can’t be sure until we get there, but as the dolphins finally slow their daunting pace, I’m both frightened and excited to see what happens next.
We float in the same area for a moment, the water much colder here, so I’m grateful when the dolphins I’m holding maneuvers underwater so I realize it wants me to climb onto its back, so I’m straddling it like a horse. I press my body against its, grateful for the warmth, and then the other dolphins huddle even closer to us, somehow helping to chase away the last of the chill. My father’s boat draws nearer; John standing on deck with a life preserver held in his grip. When they get close enough, he tosses it toward us, but the dolphins close ranks and move farther away from the life preserver and the boat.
This cat-and-mouse game keeps up for a moment before I shout, “Bat’ka, they need something from us! Don’t you see?” I wave at him, hoping he hears me. “They will let me go after we help them,” I assure him even though I don’t know that with absolute certainty, it’s just a sense I get.
Whether he hears me or not, my father doesn’t listen, and he seems ever determined to get closer to us, so I encourage the dolphins to swim away. As we circle back around the boat, almost back to the place where we had started this merry-go-round, I see the first humpback whale. The sight of it mesmerizes and petrifies me. Then a second and a third humpback surface and I officially panic. The dolphins click and whistle as they begin to circle the yacht, which only adds to my fear. Are they preparing for an attack? Humpback whales are gentle creatures—they don’t unnecessarily attack humans, so I tell myself they’re only curious. Unfortunately, the gigantic animals are being unusually aggressive, and just as three of them get dangerously close, the boat lifts up out of the water, the great force causing my father and all his men to fall overboard.
A thunderous tearing sound fills the air as a fourth whale lifts the boat out of the water as though it doesn’t weigh a thing. The yacht cracks right down the middle, the bow precariously hanging off the stern by a few resilient pieces of wood. Then the whale slips back underwater, lowering the broken vessel back into the sea with a splash. The ensuing wave crashes over us, so I grip onto my dolphin tightly and hang on for dear life. Thankfully, I manage to stay seated, and the other dolphins hurry ahead to help my father and John.
When we pull up beside them, I can’t help but chuckle at their utterly astonished expressions. “Get on,” I encourage them. “I told you; they’re here to help.”
“Help?” my father barks as he slides onto one of the dolphin’s backs. “They just sunk my boat!”
“Correction,” I say. “The whales sunk your boat. The dolphins came to your rescue.” And as if to agree, the dolphins click and squawk.
My father looks at me, wild and wide-eyed, which makes me laugh again. My father and John aren’t as amused, yet despite their anger, my spirits cannot be dampened. I don’t know why we had been chosen for this crazy adventure, and I don’t know if this is the end of the line or if there are more adventures in store for us, but regardless of how my father and John feel about everything that just happened, I’m determined to enjoy every crazy minute of it.
Later that night, when the house is completely still and all of the excitement has drained away from my body, I slip into the hallway and sneak over to John’s room. I knock softly, and within seconds, he pulls the door open and motions for me to enter.
“I knew you would come,” he says as he takes a seat in his reading chair, a cup of tea sitting beside a book about the solar system.
Our rooms have the exact same layout, so I walk over and climb onto the loveseat. Then I reach for the book. “Where did you find this?” I ask as I flip through pages.
“The library…it seemed…fitting…”
I glance up from the pages and stare deep into his eyes. I may only be ten, but I’m not dumb. “So you think that today…with the dolphins and the whales…you think that was…extraterrestrial?”
He looks off into the distance and seems to deeply contemplate for a long moment before his eyes meet mine again. “I cannot say,” he admits, “but…”
“But what?” I hedge.
“I don’t know…”
I drop back and rest my head against one of the plushy cushions. “Maybe they were just trying to keep one more bomb off the black market,” I say, since my father had at least admitted that much when we got back. There had been a bomb onboard that yacht—one he was selling—and one that was now on the bottom of the sea.
“But the wire transfer came through after we got back,” John says, more to himself, but that bit of news grabs my attention.
At ten, kids shouldn’t understand how currency can be slipped from one account to another—how people could pay for things from another part of the world without ever meeting, but I did, because my dad was an arms dealer, and that was his business—and mine too, in a way, so I knew what John meant, and I wondered, as he did now, if that wire transfer could have come from much, much farther away. Perhaps it had come from another planet—one who knew that the Puerto Rico Trench was one of the deepest places on Earth; one who knew how to surf th
e web in search of bad things; and one who knew how to communicate with animals.
“They lured us here, malenʹkyy heniy,” he says softly, in the same tone he uses when he reads me bedtime stories. “For weeks, they sent cryptic messages and they paid half upfront, sight unseen, but with always the intention that we deliver the goods to those coordinates.” He lets that sink in for a moment before he continues. “That requires a higher-level of thinking…and with the animals…I don’t know.” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It all seems so…”
“Magical?” I offer.
He chuckles. “I was thinking impossible, but I suppose that works too.”
I remember reading somewhere that magic is just science we don't understand yet. Off the top of my head, I can’t recall where I saw that, but for the first time, I embrace the concept behind it.
“Do you mind if I sleep in here?” I ask John as I readjust my position on the loveseat so I can start the book from the beginning.
“Not at all,” he says as he gets up to fetch me a blanket. “But don’t stay up too late.” He ruffles my hair. “We don’t know what tomorrow has in store for us.”
As I snuggle up with the book and blanket, I can only hope that it’s just as fun, amazing, and adventurous as it had been today, and that along with the dolphins and the whales, the mystery of what truly happened today would also be revealed.
I fall asleep dreaming about the stars and I wake up thinking of the ocean.
John is already up and out of the room by the time I wake up, so I quickly dress, clean up, and find him downstairs. He has a cup of cocoa waiting for me. We take our drinks outside and as the first rays of light appear, we make our way to the beach. The sea is calm and the sunrise is breathtaking,
“It appears your friends have returned yet again,” John says and then motions toward the east.
My heart rate zips into overdrive as I search the horizon for them. Then I see them. A pod of dolphins, heading our way. I set the cup aside and hurry into the shallows, the cool water shocking away the last of my sleep.