by Russ Watts
Still mobile, that’s good. And still breathing. Even better.
Don checked the time, and then put on his sunglasses. When he had parked, the car was in the shade, but already, the coolness of the shade was passing and this particular autumn day was shaping up to be a bright one. As he drove into work, away from number seven Collwood Lane, away from more memories and murky figures from his past, he checked off in his head what he had to do in the office today. It was routine now, as he had been doing it for close on ten years. His staff knew the procedures too, and it should be easy-going. He clocked off at seven today. Don began to plan on whether to hit the Fisherman’s Arms, or the Old Station afterwards. He found it easier to get through the day when he didn’t think about the bigger picture. Just figure out what’s for dinner and remember to show up for work. Tomorrow would dawn, whether he planned it or not.
Tomorrow. It’s just another day. It’s a Wednesday, no big deal. There will be twenty-four hours, half of which you’ll spend sleeping.
Except it wasn’t just another day. Tomorrow was a day he definitely did not want to think about today. October sixteenth. It was burned into his brain, seared like the branding on cattle destined for the slaughterhouse. No matter how much he tried to avoid it, there it was waiting for him. And when it was gone, when October sixteenth was over, it would be there the next year, the year after that, and the year after that.
Don pulled up to the staff entrance to the Wild Seas Park. He rolled his window down and flashed his ID card at the waiting security guard.
“Morning, James, all good?” asked Don.
“All good, boss, all good.”
The barrier lifted and Don pulled into his space behind the main office.
“Good morning, Don,” said a female voice as he got out of the car. “I swung by the office earlier and Terrick said you were in today. I wasn’t certain.”
“Mrs Bertoni.” Don shook her hand and had to admire the woman. The current betting was that she was fifty-five, maybe fifty-six, but she hid her age well. A red blouse blossomed out from beneath her black suit jacket. Her hair and make-up was immaculate, as always, and she wore a smart business suit, open-necked, showing off just the right amount of cleavage. Rumour had it that Mr Bertoni had paid for implants, and Don sure appreciated it. That being said, he tolerated her because he had to. She paid him to do a job, and he was good at it, looking after security at the park year-round. He had been on the end of one of her verbal assaults a few times down the years, and had managed to evade them for a while now. He hoped she wasn’t about to chew his ear off for being late.
The current director of Wild Seas Park, Zola Bertoni, was proud of her Italian heritage, and it was no surprise that she had inherited her mother’s temper. She made her presence known and liked to spend as much time on-site as possible. She looked at Don as a hungry leopard would gaze at an injured Springbok. He had grown used to it and chose to ignore it.
“Don, don’t be an ass, call me Zola. Honestly, Fiona, Don and I go way back. He’s been on the team for eight years now.”
“Nine,” said Don correcting her, “coming up on ten soon.”
Zola’s eyes fleetingly flared before she broke out into a smile and let out a childish giggle. “Oh my, it feels like yesterday. But sorry, I haven’t even introduced you to Fiona, have I? She’s joining our executive team today. Don, Fiona, Fiona, Don.”
Don shook the cold hand of a younger woman dressed in grey.
“Pleased to meet you.” The woman spoke in a soft voice and was in awe of Zola, watching her every move and hardly noticing Don at all.
I’ll give you six months, tops, before Zola eats you alive.
“Don, do you think you could join me for lunch today? I have a few things I need to run past you. We want to make a few changes to the Christmas celebrations. I know, I know, they’ve been organised for months, don’t tell me, but John has come up with some fantastic new concepts. I really think we can get away with making just some minor adjustments and be onto a winner.” Zola winked at Don and led Fiona away. “Lunch. My office. Two p.m.”
“Want me to bring anything?” asked Don, hoping she would tell him to forget it.
“Just your sweet little self,” Zola answered, walking away.
Don shook his head and jogged up the steps to the security room. He punched the pin number into the keypad and the metal door opened quickly, letting him inside the air-conditioned offices of the largest marine park in the world.
Just have to make it to seven, he thought. Just get through lunch with Vampirella, get the car home, and get to the Old Station. Then you can get blasted and put off remembering that tomorrow is the sixteenth. I’ll deal with it later, much later.
OCTOBER TUESDAY 15TH 19:25
Amanda dangled the last Herring just above the waterline and watched Poppy race up to grab it. Just as the dolphin was about to surface, Amanda threw the dead fish up in the air, and watched as Poppy somersaulted above the cool water of her enclosure, catching the prize in her mouth before disappearing beneath the water and splashing Amanda.
“You all set?” asked Don. As head of park security, he had to be the last one out for the day, before handing over to the night shift. When he wasn’t going back to his apartment alone, he often took Amanda out for supper, or a quick drink. He often had to wait for Amanda, almost drag her out of the park, and today was no exception. He watched her wipe her hands on a rag and then scoop up a now empty bucket.
“Yeah, I guess,” said Amanda, as she walked on over to Don. “Poppy just had the last one. I’m done now.” The pool area was wet and she walked barefoot, preferring to trust her natural grip than any rubber replacement footwear. She smiled as she approached Don. “Sorry, you must get fed up of waiting for me. You know, I’d be perfectly safe, and you can trust me to lock up. Honestly, I don’t mind.”
Don crossed his thick arms before answering. “You know that’s never going to happen. I could wait all day for you, don’t you worry.” It was almost seven thirty and he was getting itchy. He was thinking about that first beer, the best one, the beer everyone savoured the most after a day’s work. It was always the freshest, tastiest one of an evening. By the tenth, they all started to taste the same.
Don had spent the last five years of his life flirting with Amanda, and it had never gone further than the odd drink. Both of them knew it was a harmless game. At twenty years his junior, Amanda could have her choice of most men. She was truly beautiful, and kept her body in good shape. Running around the park did that for her. At work, she kept her shoulder-length hair tied up, but the moment she left the park, she let it loose. Don loved her like a daughter. He had noticed in the last few months that she had seemed happier, and it was no coincidence, she was seeing someone new. The new guy, Hamish, actually seemed like the genuine article. She hadn’t let them meet yet, but Don could tell he was special. He planned to probe Amanda tonight for more details. If Hamish truly was going to be the man who swept her off her feet, Don needed to make sure she wasn’t in for a fall. He had picked up the pieces before, and hated it when men used her. She was too trusting, too willing to let herself fall in love, when she should be keeping her guard up.
Yeah, but then she’d end up old and alone like me. Better to let her get on with living, mistakes and all.
They left the dolphin enclosure and went into the female changing rooms. Don sat down on the wooden bench sandwiched between two rows of lockers, whilst Amanda showered. When she emerged, she got changed behind the lockers.
Don kept his distance and talked while he waited. “So Zola told me Shakti’s not well. Something about a check-up last week throwing up some potential problems? I tried to get more information, but she wouldn’t spill it. Sounded serious. You know anything?”
“She wouldn’t tell me either.” Amanda’s voice carried over the lockers and Don could hear her dressing. Occasionally, it would sound muffled, presumably when she was pulling something over her head. “I talked
to Jay yesterday, and he said they think it might be cancer. I don’t know for sure, but that would be my guess. To be fair, our resident whale is getting old now. If it wasn’t that, it would be something else.”
“So what’s Zola going to do? The star of the show can’t go on forever, but it’s a big stadium to fill. As much as I love Poppy and Pete, I don’t think they’d put enough bums on seats.”
“Tell me about it. Zola wants to get another dolphin, mix it up a bit. I told her, you can’t just go out, buy a trained dolphin, and expect it not to upset ours, but she doesn’t see things the way we do. It’s all about the money. I’ll bet she hasn’t even thought about what effect Shakti’s death will have on the staff. Jay can be a pain in the ass, but I could tell even he was cut up about it. If Zola had her way, she would pop down to K-mart and get a new whale. Like the Orcas are right next to the frozen yoghurt, aisle ten, right? That woman gets under my skin.
“She probably thinks Shakti can be replaced, but it’s not that easy. There’s more interest in the animals’ welfare these days. We don’t get as many people now as we did ten years ago. I don’t have to tell you that. I don’t know the numbers, but you can tell walking around the place that it’s not as busy as it used to be. Even the school groups have dropped off. Did I tell you I lost my regular Friday class? Saint Augustine cancelled last week. They said it was no longer ‘economically viable’ to bring a group of thirty students along every week. Some of those kids live right by the most beautiful ocean on the world, and yet, half of them have never been to the beach. I’m trying to educate them, show them how amazing life is out there, and…I don’t know, sometimes, it just pisses me off the way it works.”
Don started to answer, but was cut off by the echoing blast of a hairdryer. He loved how passionate Amanda was about the animals and the school-kids. He had watched her work with them both, and she knew just how to deal with them. The animals, the dolphins most of all, responded to her more than any of the other trainers at the park. The kids, too, were enraptured when she spoke. It was as if they were the centre of the world, and she was showing them things they had never imagined.
The hairdryer was turned off, and Amanda came around the corner slinging a bag over her shoulder. “Well?”
Don watched as Amanda posed, smirking and giggling as she pretended she was doing a fashion shoot. Her long hair flew around her neck, and she wore a cherry-blossom shirt over skinny jeans and sandals. Don stood up smiling. “All right, all right, show’s over. Carrie Underwood called, she wants her career back. Let’s get out of here. You up for the Old Station tonight?”
“Hell yeah, I love that place. Best Caesar salad on the west coast.” Amanda skipped out of the changing room and headed for the exit. “I am starving. I think I might actually pass out if I don’t eat in the next two seconds.”
“Well, there’s this place I know. It’s real close and we can be there in, oh, twenty seconds. It’s a little chilly admittedly, and the ambience is a bit, well, dead. You do like Herring, don’t you? Honestly, they pile it high and you can eat it straight from the bucket. No need for cutlery, you just get stuck in. Poppy and Pete recommend it.”
Amanda raised one eyebrow and pointed at Don. “Ha ha, very funny, Doctor Jones. I think I’ll pass. Let’s get to a real bar.”
“Excellent choice. I hear they do some fine cold beers too,” said Don grinning. “And once you’ve stuffed your face, you can tell me all about Hamish.”
Don locked the changing rooms and they left the building, chattering absently, laughing as they made their way to the security office, and eventually, Don’s car. By the time they had reached the Old Station, Don had clean forgotten that tomorrow was the sixteenth.
CHAPTER 2
OCTOBER TUESDAY 15TH 18:03
Curtis discarded his woollen hat, and cast his jacket aside as he sat down. The small cabin was warm, the coffee warmer, and Curtis poured himself a fresh cup. Although the boat was gently rocking from side to side, he managed to pour and drink the whole cup without spilling a drop. That was what thirty years of being at sea taught you.
“Seems like the wind’s dropped,” said Hamish. “You leaving Roy up there on his own?”
Curtis poured himself another cup of coffee and sat down next to his son. “Roy can handle it from here. Been through worse than this.” He took a sip of the hot liquid that warmed his bones, and stretched out his thick arms, rolling his shoulders to erase the stiffness. “You weren’t with us for the winter of ’98. Now that was a storm.”
Hamish smiled inwardly. Every time they skirted a storm, or had some strong winds, his father would bring up the winter of ’98. It was like a myth now, a daring tale of adventure and heroism, where his father and Roy would survive by the skin of their teeth, and still bring home the catch. Not just any catch either, but the biggest catch of the day. None of Curtis’ competition brought anything home after the infamous storm of winter ’98. “Yeah, I heard about that one already, Dad,” said Hamish fake yawning.
“You did, huh? Then I guess you heard about the time I spanked your hide for backchat,” said Curtis winking back at his son. “On more than one occasion, if I recall correctly.”
Just then, the small fishing trawler they had called home for the last two days pitched sharply to the port side. Various drawers flew open and the cutlery tipped out, showering the floor with a variety of knives and spoons. A tin mug whistled past Hamish’s head and he ducked, catching the portable radio as it jumped from its position on the shelf above. He shoved the radio back up on the shelf as the trawler levelled out, and noticed his father was sat perfectly still, holding his cup tightly, ensuring none of the coffee was spilt.
“I’m fine, don’t worry, Dad, I got it covered.” Hamish slid out from beneath the table and scooped up the cutlery that had made a futile bid for freedom.
Curtis grunted. “Don’t be such a baby.” He watched as his son stowed away the dishes and mugs, and cast an eye out the porthole window. The weather was calmer now, much calmer than the last ten hours. He gave his son a hard time, but only because he knew Hamish had to toughen up if he was going to take over the business. “I’ve been out on this ocean for thirty years,” said Curtis.
“And she ain’t got me yet,” muttered Hamish beneath his breath quietly.
“And she ain’t got me yet,” said Curtis, not hearing his son. “You know, she’s a tough bitch, but once you get used to her, you’ll see how amazing it is out here. She can throw a tantrum now and then like all good women, but if it was plain sailing, life would be boring. Don’t you reckon?”
“Yes, Dad,” agreed Hamish, knowing if he didn’t, he would get an even longer lecture than the one he knew he was about to receive.
“I’ve been fishing these waters for longer than I care to remember. When I started out on old Jack Morrow’s boat, I was wet behind the ears, a little like you, you know. You can’t expect to go straight into it. I know you want to get on with it, son, but you can’t adapt to a life on the ocean just like that. You can’t rush it.” Curtis snapped his fingers and then took a swig of coffee. He’d been up for fifteen hours solid, and now they were approaching the fishing area, he needed to stay alert a while longer, at least until the nets were out.
“I know, I know.” Hamish sat down. “Dad, let me take the wheel for a bit. You and Roy could do with a break. I know what I’m doing.”
Hamish remembered the first day he had come out on the Mary-Jane. He was seven years old, and he had been amazed at the size of the winch on deck. He was even more amazed when he had gone inside the wheelhouse. His father had shown him the galley, the pantry, and then let him sit in the skipper’s chair and pointed out what all the machines were for: sonar systems, radios, navigation controls, and the command console. There was an ELT, a GPS monitor, a Wesmar Sonar TE-33, and even an old Fathometer. He had forgotten what it all did the minute his father started talking about the next thing, but he still remembered that day clearly. Hamish had felt
as if he was on board a space ship, and felt a kinship to the boat from then on. Of course, once he had hit his teens, he lost interest, and it was only more recently that he had gotten back into it again. His father had put a lot of trust in him these last few years, letting him get more and more involved in the running of the company and showing him how to handle the trawler.
Hamish got up to go and relieve Roy. “What’s the First Mate been up to anyway? Roy’s hardly spoken to me since we left the dock. He’s in a foul mood.” Roy was as old as his father was, and had probably spent more time on the Mary-Jane than dry land. He was also a grumpy old man, and rarely had a kind word to say to Hamish. It was evident he didn’t like him, and Hamish was kind of pleased he had been so quiet.
“Roy’s just got something on his mind. It’s difficult for him to…look, just sit down, Hamish. I need to speak to you.”
Hamish sat as instructed. A cloud had come over his father’s eyes and he wondered if Roy was sick. Roy was a hard-ass, often outright nasty, but Hamish also knew how much the man meant to his father. They had been fishing these waters, sailing the western Pacific together, for as long as he could remember. “What is it?” Hamish asked nervously.
Curtis cleared his throat. “Show you can be responsible and then if you want the business, it’s yours. I told Roy yesterday. It’s only fair he knew.”
“Really? Dad, are you… Really?” Hamish was staggered. He had not expected this, not now. “What about Roy?”
“Roy knows the business inside out, and he’s a damn good fisherman. I’ve been friends with him since we were on the same football team back in high school. But he’s an asshole. I know that, I’ve seen how he treats people. If I let him run the business, he’d piss off our partners, crap on our customers, and the business that I’ve spent the past twenty-five years building up would be gone in a year. You can’t build up a good reputation overnight like I have, but you sure can destroy one.