Shark Island

by Chris Jameson

  The boat rocked a bit harder, sea spray pattering the deck. She raised the camera again, and this time he managed to muster half a smile for it.

  Just like that, they were at ease with each other. Naomi liked him, this stiff, awkward man. Soon they were standing at the railing together as she took long-distance shots of one of the beaches around Chatham—she could not be sure exactly how far they had come.

  “It’s damn impressive, I must say,” Wolchko observed.

  Naomi glanced up from her camera. “What is?”

  “I figured you’d have a much more difficult time staying upright with the boat rocking. I have a hard enough time balancing out here, and I’ve got both my legs.”

  From someone else, it might have come off as insensitive, but she had Wolchko figured out. Or she was starting to. His curiosity and wonder felt genuine. Naomi had put up with a lot of people who made her feel like a victim or a freak or as if her life were over, but Wolchko treated this like any other conversation, like what had happened to her was just another version of normal.

  “Honestly, it’s pretty amazing,” Naomi admitted, glancing around because she knew she sounded anything but normal when she talked this way. “Not like I don’t wish it hadn’t happened. I won’t give you the list of truly suckish parts of going through what I’ve gone through. But it’s pretty miraculous—”

  Then Tye appeared and she fell silent. He joined them at the railing, using his binoculars to study the coastline more closely.

  “Tye,” she said, willfully changing the subject, “why is the boat named the Thaumas? Somebody couldn’t spell Thomas?”

  The binoculars didn’t even twitch. “Thaumas is a Greek sea god.”

  “I thought that was Poseidon,” Wolchko said.

  Tye’s lips twitched. It wasn’t much. Not a sneer or even a smile, but there was something condescending in that little twitch, that almost disdain, and right then Naomi decided she did not like Dr. Tye Ashmore very much.

  “The Greeks had a lot of sea gods,” Tye said. “Thaumas is the god of all the wonders of the sea.”

  Naomi snapped a picture of Tye and his binoculars. “That’s kind of happy sounding. Poseidon is always portrayed as being such a dick. I wonder why we don’t hear more about Thaumas, ‘god of all the wonders of the sea.’”

  “Poseidon killed him and took his throne,” Tye explained, still focused on the shore, where the herds of seals had stubbornly refused to respond to the siren call of whatever signal the boat had been broadcasting at them.

  Naomi and Wolchko exchanged a raised-eyebrow glance.

  “Well,” Wolchko said to her, “you did say Poseidon was a dick.”

  Naomi barked laughter, irritating Tye, which made her even happier. Wolchko laughed as well, and since she had the idea he did not get a lot of laughs out of his typical day, this pleased her.

  Then Rosalie called out, and they all turned.

  “Come take a look at this,” she said from the opposite railing, the starboard side.

  Naomi and Wolchko joined her there, and Kat emerged from the wheelhouse to do the same. Rosalie had her thick hair tied back and a set of her own binoculars pressed to her eyes. She sensed their presence without turning and pointed southeast, toward a smaller vessel that almost seemed to be trailing them.

  “They’ve been pacing us for the last twenty minutes,” she said. Then she glanced back and realized she was talking to Naomi and her expression shifted to derision.

  “Could be press,” Naomi said. “Could be protesters.”

  “Greenpeace,” Wolchko added. “SeaLove. There are half a dozen organizations who’d like to interfere, or at least keep an eye on us.”

  Rosalie seemed content with Wolchko’s presence, seemed to look up to him, but Naomi could feel that she was unwelcome. She had decided to say something, try to break the ice, but then Kat pushed between them and took Rosalie’s binoculars, having a glimpse for herself.

  The Endangered Species Act and the Marine Mammal Protection Act required anyone whose research might alter the creatures’ natural behavior to apply to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration for a permit. Like any other government office, NOAA had a tendency to drag their feet, but in the case of this experiment, many forces had been in place to usher them toward a quicker decision. The attack that had killed Luke Turner and mutilated Naomi had forced the public to link the adorable seals with hungry sharks in a way that made them truly nervous. The local fishermen, the state government, and local business leaders all wanted both seals and sharks gone, which meant that funding sources had started lining up to finance Dr. Cheong’s research.

  Pretty much the only people who didn’t want the WHOI experiment to work were animal rights activist groups. They thought Dr. Cheong’s team was interfering with the natural order and endangering the seals. Those organizations had a lot of money for attorneys and a lot of social media power, and NOAA had taken that into consideration when evaluating the permit application. They had fast-tracked the approval. Naomi thought maybe they had moved so swiftly because the longer they waited, the more time SeaLove and Greenpeace and the rest would have had to organize their opposition.

  Naomi zoomed in as much as her camera would allow and snapped photos of the other boat and the few figures she could see onboard. With the gray sky and the rain, it was hard to make out much of anything.

  “It could just be some lookie loos, curious about what we’re up to,” Kat said. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. Just go about your business. This is an experiment, not a P.R. campaign.”

  Naomi stiffened. Maybe she was just being oversensitive now, but this felt like a jab at her. As Kat handed the binoculars back to Rosalie, Naomi again felt the need to say something, argue the legitimacy of her presence onboard.

  The seals interrupted.

  “They’re on the move, Kat,” Tye called out.

  Kat nudged Naomi and Wolchko and Rosalie aside and dashed across the deck. They followed.

  “Are you sure?” Kat asked.

  Tye grinned and offered her his own binoculars, but she didn’t need them. From this distance, they could all see the swathes of seals waddling on their bellies along the sand and slipping into the water. Bergting came out of the wheelhouse, craning his neck.

  “They’re on the move,” Tye said again.

  Kat let out a cry of victory.

  Naomi got that moment of exuberance on film, then turned and started shooting images of the seals’ exodus. As she watched the herd vanish beneath the waves, she kept an eye on the water, because she knew the sharks were there, waiting. The signal from the Thaumas was luring the seals en masse, persuading them to act against their instincts.

  For the sharks, it might as well have been the dinner bell.

  CHAPTER 10

  The little crew of the Thaumas let out a cheer as the boat passed Race Point in Provincetown—the tip of Cape Cod—and the seal herd flowed off the sand and into the water, joining the mass exodus that swam behind the boat, following the signal. Kat did not want to celebrate prematurely, but she did allow herself a little fist pump. Even the first mate, Bergting, called out a loud woo-hoo of support and applauded for them, and she couldn’t help grinning when he gave her a thumbs-up.

  “All right, calm yourselves,” she said loudly, making sure she would be overheard in the wind and the rain. “This is just proof of concept. It’s a long journey from here to being able to claim success, so settle down.”

  As she glanced around, she spotted Naomi taking photos of her—recording the moment of triumph or something. Kat’s face flushed with irritation, but she brushed it off. The girl was here to do a job, just like the rest of them, which meant Kat would have to get used to having her picture taken. Still …

  “Naomi, the real story’s out there,” she said, pointing toward shore.

  The girl nodded agreeably. Maybe she understood that Kat didn’t want to be the center of attention, that she had no interest in being the s
tory … or maybe she really did see that the seal herd moving en masse off the shore was a remarkable achievement for the whole team. Either way, Naomi focused on the sudden migration, which gave Kat a few moments to stand at the railing and appreciate what she was seeing. The seal numbers had been growing exponentially, and the sharks weren’t the only thing that came along with them. The herds also brought their appetites, which meant they ate a lot of fish … and they covered their nesting ground with their shit. The stink downwind of that had worsened over the past few years to the point where it drove people away and kept them away.

  So many little problems becoming big problems … And we might be solving them all, Kat thought. Then she smiled inwardly. Now who’s getting ahead of herself?

  The wind gusted harder and she pulled the strings of her raincoat’s hood tighter. The dark sky had turned the water black and gray, so that it was easy to look at the seal migration and lose track of how many there really were. Their bodies arced out of the water as they swam, but their colors blended. She spotted hundreds of dark heads poking up and then submerging again, but the real numbers would be hard to gauge. Fortunately, that was Tye’s job.

  As if summoned by the thought, he appeared at the railing beside her. He hadn’t bothered with his hood, and his wet hair plastered his head, rain trickling down his face.

  “This is damn cool,” he said.

  “Thanks to Wolchko. He built the thing.”

  Tye bumped her with his hip. “Based on your theory, and our research. Maybe we couldn’t have done it without him, but he couldn’t have done it without us, either.”

  Kat turned to Tye. To speak without shouting, they had to be close, there in the rain, with the boat rising and falling on the ocean beneath them. She hadn’t been this close to him in months and the intimacy unsettled her. Confused her. And she resented that confusion.

  “Yes, it’s a team effort, Tye. Is that what you want me to say? Don’t worry, it may be my team, but everyone will get credit for their contributions, from Captain N’Dour to Rosalie.”

  Tye flinched, as if the words stung. And maybe they did. Maybe she had meant them to.

  Tye started to argue, but then Naomi approached, grabbing hold of the base of the crane to steady herself. She wore a broad grin, and despite the intrusion Kat couldn’t help but marvel at the girl’s resilience. The prosthetic might have been a remarkable piece of technology, but Naomi had still needed to adjust to it, both as a limb and as a concept. Less than a year after a shark had torn her leg off, this college kid walked around on the surging deck of a research ship with a camera around her neck, apparently having the time of her life.

  “Do you guys mind if I capture the moment?” Naomi asked.

  “Actually, now’s really not—” Tye began.

  Kat elbowed him. “We don’t mind at all.”

  She put her arm around Tye, startling him with her closeness. Starling herself a little bit, too. But this was their project, something they shared; she refused to allow the complexities of their relationship to destroy the camaraderie this team deserved.

  “Naomi, I figure you don’t need me to tell you this, but please make sure to get the whole team,” Kat said. “If this experiment fails, I want to make sure everyone shares the blame.”

  The girl laughed as she snapped another shot and then strode away, moving carefully forward. Kat turned to look back out at the seals, only to find Tye staring at her as if doubting her sanity.

  “What?” she said. “I’m joking, obviously.”

  “I know.” He laid his hand over hers on the railing, just for a second. He squeezed and then pulled his hand away. “I’m just glad you can.”

  Kat might have jerked her hand away if he’d left his there any longer. Instead, the feeling of his touch lingered, reminding her of the comfort they had once taken from each other. She watched him move farther along the stern, binoculars in one hand and walkie-talkie in the other. He’d be making observations about the herd’s behavior, trying to get a rough count, and making sure that the boat did not outpace them. The last thing the team wanted was to get too far ahead, so that the signal broadcasting from the two dishes—one on top of the wheelhouse and the other underwater, along the boat’s keel—would no longer be able to influence the seals’ behavior. Tye would radio the information in to Rosalie in the wheelhouse, and she would input everything, along with whatever data Wolchko must already be feeding her about signal strength and modulation.

  The boat plied northward, straight for the Maine coast.

  A trickle of rainwater slid down Kat’s neck and inside her shirt and she decided to celebrate the morning’s small victory with another cup of coffee. She headed for the wheelhouse, intending to go below and dry off a little and pop a pod into the Keurig. Everyone had a function at the moment except for her. A few minutes for an extra coffee was one of the perks of being in charge.

  Then Tye called her name and she turned to see him still at the back rail. His serious expression had vanished, replaced by a childlike excitement that made him look like a rain-drenched puppy. Behind Kat, Naomi saw that something was going on, and started toward them again. In the wheelhouse, Wolchko poked his head out, frowning as he tried to read the strange excitement building there.

  Kat didn’t ask Tye what had him grinning. One glimpse at the churning mass of seals trailing in their wake and she did not need to ask. Instead, she lifted the binoculars that hung around her neck and peered out at their wake for a closer look.

  She counted at least three large fins.

  “Great Whites,” Tye said.

  Kat kept silent. They both knew what this meant. The signal had lured the seals away from the shore as planned. The hope had been that this would draw the sharks with them, that the predators along the Cape Cod shore would follow them north, but Kat had not anticipated such an immediate response.

  “It’s only a start,” she told Tye, knowing her rationality would not extinguish the gleam in his eyes. Knowing her own eyes must have the same gleam.

  They had to get the seals to follow them all the way to Bald Cap, the small island off the coast of Maine that was their destination. It was a hell of a long way, and the seals might give up interest in the signal. Even more likely, the sharks might give up interest in the seals. The sharks were following only their own hunger and instinct to hunt. The signal would not be affecting them. As they plowed north, the water would become colder, and the sharks might well break off the hunt. Kat and Tye both knew that.

  But as she’d said, it was a start.

  And even if the boat could lead the seals all the way to Bald Cap, even if the sharks followed, they would then have to repeat the procedure several times a year, at least. Unless they could figure out a way to get the seals to relocate there permanently.

  Something clicked in her mind, thoughts like puzzle pieces locking into place. She nodded to herself.

  “Y’know,” she said without taking down her binoculars. “If this works, we could wire something up at Bald Cap to broadcast the signal at a low level all year round.”

  Tye also kept his binoculars to his eyes. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “Great minds.”

  Kat bumped him with her hip. He bumped her back. For the first time in so many months, all the tension between them was gone.

  Then Wolchko shouted. Kat and Tye turned to see him pointing. The small boat they’d seen earlier had reappeared, closer than before. It kept pace with them, 150 yards to starboard. Naomi and Wolchko were already at the railing, watching the newcomers.

  “Who the hell are these guys?” Tye asked as he and Kat moved to join Naomi and Wolchko.

  “Media, maybe?” Naomi offered. “My story won’t be filed until we get back, but all the seals trailing behind us kind of tell part of the story all by themselves.”

  “I still think it’s a protest,” Kat said. “But I guess we’ll—”

  “Son of a bitch,” Wolchko said, lowering his bin
oculars. He pointed out at the other vessel. “I know that guy.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The man Eddie Wolchko thought of as “Specs” stood on the deck of the smaller boat, a twenty-five-foot Bayliner Ciera that SeaLove had bought used with money donated from its membership. The boat had been built in 1989, but it still ran beautifully. Specs, whose real name was Tony Feole, wasn’t going to be able to ram it into a whaling ship or do much to block the path of one of the massive Arctic research vessels, but it was small and quiet enough to glide up alongside a mooring for a little sabotage. The security at WHOI was too tight for late-night ecoterrorism, but Feole and his small crew had other plans.

  “I still think we should just shoot that fucking dish.”

  Feole stabbed a withering look at Ash, who only lifted her chin higher, like a boxer not afraid of an incoming punch. Almost daring him to pull rank on her. Ash was not the most militant member of SeaLove he had ever encountered, but she was the most militant he would ever have taken out on a mission with him. Since a crew had set fire to an oil rig in 2002, SeaLove had publicly disavowed anything other than organized protest. Privately, the leadership condoned the continuation of more drastic action, as long as they couldn’t be linked to it. Feole didn’t mind trying to scare someone off or posing as a reporter to get information. He wasn’t afraid of risking jail time. But there were lines he had grown reluctant to cross.

  “They’ve seen us. They’ve got us on film,” Feole said. “I’m not letting you pull out a rifle and take shots at the dish.”

  “Who cares if they have us on film?” Ash sneered, glaring with hatred at the R/V Thaumas and the figures they could see standing on the deck. “You used to be willing to go to prison for the things you believed in, Tony.”

  “I still am,” Feole replied. The boat hit a swell and he had to grab on to something to stay upright. The ocean spray coated his right side, obscuring his glasses. He took off his specs and blew on them, clearing them as best he could for the moment. “I’m just not willing to go to prison because I was an idiot.”