by Sara Foster
‘And where was that?’
‘On the verandah of the shack. Swimming in the ocean. With Pete. With you.’
Maya closes her eyes as she remembers her mother’s voice, and imagines dolphins swimming through holes in the netting, streaking away across the open water. When she opens her eyes, Kate and Carl are beside her.
‘This is it,’ Kate says to them both. ‘Once we’re in the boat, we can’t talk. Kit up quickly, and follow my lead.’ She hugs them both in turn. ‘Good luck. Let’s save as many as we can. Remember, every rope we cut makes a difference. Everything we’re about to do makes a difference.’ She squeezes Maya’s arm. ‘Stay strong, little sister. And thank you. Don’t forget, once you’ve finished, even if you can’t see us, swim north-east as fast as you can.’
Maya hasn’t met Isamu before, but had pictured a wizened old fisherman. To her surprise, the man waiting for them is no more than thirty. He acts as though they are invisible as they board, his eyes on the water the whole time, while they quickly kit up.
As soon as they are ready, he sets off. The night is still so dark that Maya cannot discern where sea becomes sky. Isamu uses the engine while crossing Kii-Katsuura’s harbour mouth and heading inland, but as they get closer to their destination he turns it off and throws Carl one of the paddles.
The dark rocks of the promontory leer over them as they silently skirt around the edge of the peninsula, as near as they can to land. Maya can make out lights in the distance, but nothing reaches them. For now, they are absorbed in the invisible cloak of night, but there are only ninety minutes before dawn.
Finally, Isamu stops rowing.
It is time to go.
Kate is instantly over, slipping silently into the water. Maya follows, the freezing water rushing to claim every part of her. It steals her breath as she descends, and makes her teeth chatter, but she ignores it. Once she starts to swim, she’ll be okay. She sees two brief strobes of pen lights in the water, and is relieved that the others are close. Now and again they flash the torches against their hands as they travel, to keep one another nearby. Maya checks her gauge and sees they are moving south-west, as they are meant to.
Their preparations have been thorough. Maya is ready for most things – the cold, the awkwardness of knives strapped to her legs and a bolt-cutter pressed inside her inflatable jacket. However, no one had talked about the noise. Despite the loud echo of her breathing, even before she locates the pens she hears the incessant clicks and squeals and whistles of the dolphins, a few calls that rise sharply before plummeting down from the high notes. They seem to intensify as she gets closer. They must know we’re here, she thinks, and after everything they’ve been through they’ll be terrified.
Robbed of clear sight, she’s unaware they have found the outer ropes of the pen until she swims straight into them. The jolt almost knocks the regulator out of her mouth, but she quickly recovers. Kate is right next to her and flicks the torch on briefly, so that Maya gets the briefest impression of her determined eyes before she gets to work. The plan is for them to cut the net while moving in opposite directions, until they have gone all the way around the four pens. Meanwhile, Carl will swim to the farther side and attempt the two pens there.
The rope netting is not as thick as the ones they have been practising with, but the squares are narrow. It is too difficult to wield the bolt-cutters with proper force underwater, and eventually Maya gives up and uses the biggest of her knives, sawing with all her strength. After a few goes, she takes off her neoprene gloves, pushing them into her jacket. Her fingers work more easily once they are free, even though it is sometimes difficult to keep good hold of the slimy rope. As the first ropes break, excitement makes her hyperventilate, and she forces herself to go a little slower. She continues to work, now aware of large, slick bodies brushing close by, their calls and clicking loud in her ears. She winces as the knife slips and digs into her finger, but there is no time to think about it. She is only just beneath the surface. Mapping the holding pens in her mind, she is able to flick the torch on briefly when she thinks she has reached the wooden walkway of the large central pen. She is right. At that point, she stops cutting.
So far, her vision has been stolen by the night, but now the very first rays of dawn are beginning to penetrate the water. She makes her way back along the outside of the netting, trying to check the holes she has made. It’s too shadowy to see much, but she can make out vague shapes. To her dismay, she realises the dolphins are still inside. In desperation, she is debating whether to swim into the pens to help when a shadow glides through one of the gaps.
She stares in jubilation, willing her eyes to focus more clearly, to confirm what she is seeing.
Another sleek body streaks past her, and is gone.
She swims the circumference of the pens, praying she is right. She can still hear a few squeaks and calls, but they could be from those in the central pen. She can’t find any in the outer ones.
And then she hears the sound of a boat engine, coming closer. Her nerves resurge at once, paralysing her. There was no mention that Isamu would get this close. It must be another boat. She imagines it beginning to round up the dolphins, before they’ve had a chance to go anywhere. She turns in circles, but the light is too dim, and there is no sign of either Kate or Carl.
She is alone.
The realisation is terrifying. Her breathing quickens, and she becomes dizzy. Her fingers are so cold she can barely feel them. She struggles to regain control of herself, checking her compass and turning to face north-east. Once ready, she kicks as hard as she can.
Far sooner than she expected she can make out the rocky bottom getting shallower. She unbuckles her fins and takes them off, struggling to her feet, trying to grab hold of the slippery stone. As soon as her footing is sure, she unclips the tank and pulls it off, setting it down. She looks around her. She is completely alone, standing out on the perimeter of the rocks, and the light is increasing by the second. She glimpses a distant thicket of trees and begins to run towards them, dodging small pools full of water, trying to keep her footing, desperate to find cover, to feel safer. As she runs, she wonders where the hell Kate and Carl have gone.
Only when she is lost in a swathe of shadowy trees does she turn and look towards the pens. Beyond them, she can make out two figures on the opposite shore, their arms waving triumphantly in the air. They are staring out to sea. She follows their gazes to the little vessel speeding towards the horizon. But not until she sees a pair of dorsal fins surface briefly behind the boat does she let out a sob.
Relief takes out her legs, and she collapses on the rocks. The distant sound of a siren makes her look across to the shoreline again. The two people she’d seen standing there have gone.
The boat is now little more than a dot in the distance, and her tired eyes cannot pick out fins against the restless peaks of water. She is trying to decide what to do next when, without warning, a hand clamps over her nose and mouth.
55
Desi
Desi moves forward and slips silently into the sea as soon as the police van begins to move, watching it join a procession of others, sirens blazing, racing around the harbour front in the direction of Dolphin Resort.
The water around her is rancid and grey, contaminated by the boats coming in and out. As she descends and swims the short distance to the dolphin pens, she considers how much the creatures have already been poisoned by their surroundings, forced to swim round in endless circles amid all this pollution. She has had to endure the noise of their frantic splashing and whistling as she waited these past few hours in the dark. Now, beneath the surface, each distinctive note of distress drills its way through her, leaving her body haunted and cold.
As soon as she spots the ropes, she becomes aware of movement. There is lots of activity here, grey and white bodies streaking past, hounded by unseen forces. In other circumstances, she would be mesmerised. Now there is no time for anything except her mission.
The equipment they have given her is good. The ropes are easier to cut than she expected, and the early morning light filters through to help her. One by one, she pulls the barriers apart.
The false killer whales and pantropical spotted dolphins are quick to get through the gaps she has made. She is elated as they disappear. The Pacific white-sided dolphins don’t go immediately, but they are alert, swimming around the pen as though debating the risk. However, the Risso’s dolphins worry her. They stay away from the holes. In the end, she decides to go to them.
As she swims across, they barely stir. She gets closer and closer until she is practically part of their huddle. Their small eyes never leave her. ‘Trust me,’ she urges them mentally, wishing she could transmit her intentions. ‘Go. Please, go.’
But neither of them move. In the next pen, the Pacific white-sided pair have disappeared. Perhaps these two are irreversibly traumatised, she decides sadly, resigning herself. If all the others have gone, at least the fishermen will take some care with them, since they will be the only valuable animals left.
She swims towards the opening she has made. As she goes through, it takes her a moment to realise she has lost momentum. She redoubles her efforts, but her finning is no longer moving her forward.
She is stuck.
What would you change?
The question clings to her like a parasite as she drops her tank to free herself. It grips on through her desperate ascent, hitches a ride as she swims frantically, and chases her over the rocks. As the men close in on her, she tries to respond, propelling her mind faster and faster, charting the course of her life in reverse. She goes deep into her childhood, as far back as she can remember, but finds nothing of interest. She changes direction, winding the reel forward now, closing in, surely, on the answer she is seeking. But nothing she touches on seems quite right. Her past sinks away from her like scattered stones. It is pointless to drown in a tide of unalterable regret.
Only as she is pushed onto the bottom of a rocking boat, and an angry man screams in her face, does something shift.
It isn’t a question, after all. She wasn’t searching for an answer, but a memory.
They are lying on the deck, watching the wind toying with a few wisps of cloud.
‘If you could alter one thing about the world,’ Connor begins, ‘what would you change?’
‘I’d get rid of evil,’ she replies without hesitation.
To her surprise, Connor laughs. ‘I don’t believe in evil. It’s not a supernatural power. Don’t ever call anyone evil – the ignorant don’t deserve that kind of status.’
‘You don’t believe in evil at all?’ she asks in surprise.
‘No, I believe in goodness. Evil, on the other hand, is an absolute lack of goodness, and it’s so shocking when we see it that we’ve given it a name, and made it into something powerful. But it’s a negative. It’s empty. It’s nothing.’
‘So what would you change about the world, then, Mr Know-It-All?’
Connor sits up, and she can sense his excitement. ‘I’d change the nature of memory. I’d make it so we could remember everything, not just the edited highlights. Right back to when we were babies – before we had any tools at our disposal, particularly language – before we learnt absolutely anything about the world. Imagine if we could recall everything from our time in the womb onwards. If we didn’t forget so much of the past, perhaps we wouldn’t even need to change the future.’
‘Do you want to change the future?’
He laughs. ‘Only if it isn’t with you.’
She is struck across the cheek with something hard, and it returns her to herself. As she is hit again, she cries out and tries to speak, but they will never understand. There is blood in her mouth as they clutch and scream at her. If she could find the right words to explain, would it make any difference? If she could level with them, would they see beneath her skin?
She rolls onto her side and coughs, splattering red onto the deck. She sees a gap in the boat’s rails and tries to shimmy towards it, but she is quickly roped to the side. She is theirs now. Theirs to determine what happens next.
As the boat turns towards the harbour, she glimpses the horizon. The early morning sun is untethered from the night, floating towards the sky. Specks of dancing light begin to catch the water, and it looks for all the world as though the stars have fallen to the sea.
56
Maya
‘Don’t panic,’ Jackson hisses in Maya’s ear. ‘Just come with me.’
He pulls her into the darkness of the forest, her bare feet stinging as she steps on needle-sharp branches and rocks. He doesn’t release her until they are completely hidden.
‘Get dressed, quickly,’ he whispers, pulling things out of a bag.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Maya, there’s no time to explain. If you want to escape, you need to do what I say.’
Bewildered, she lets him help her out of her wetsuit. He takes it away as she changes into her clothes, and she sees him hide it behind the rocks.
‘Right, follow me,’ he says, ‘and keep up.’
They set off in the grey light, through the tall, crowded tree trunks. As she runs, she’s glad he’s brought her shoes as her painful feet wouldn’t have coped. She hurries after him, eyes fixed on the bag slung over his shoulder, bouncing up and down. He glances behind regularly to make sure she’s still close.
They eventually reach a white car hidden in a thicket of trees.
‘Get in the back and keep your head down,’ Jackson says.
Once they are inside, he puts on a baseball cap before he starts the car.
‘Jackson –’
‘Not yet,’ he says. ‘Don’t talk yet. Just keep down.’
She lies on the seat, the vinyl sticking to her cheek. As they set off, she can still smell the sea in her hair. At first, the car jolts slowly over rough terrain, but then she hears the indicator, and as the road becomes smooth they speed up. From her position she can make out Jackson’s profile between the gaps in the seats, his expression solemn as he stares unflinchingly ahead.
‘Jackson, where are we going?’ she hisses, after what seems like an hour but is probably far less.
‘Osaka. You’re booked on a flight in ten hours. Let’s pray we get there as I can’t read any of these bloody road signs.’
‘I’m booked on a flight? What about you, Jackson? Where the hell are the others?’
He doesn’t answer for a moment. ‘They’re not coming.’
She sits upright in shock. ‘What the hell do you mean?’
‘Get down!’ he hisses. And when she has ducked out of view again, he says, ‘They never intended to come back.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Kate explained it all to me. If they just save a few dolphins, the show is over quickly and there’s not much of a fuss. But if they get caught, the judicial process will keep attention fixed on Taiji for weeks, probably months, possibly years. And that’s what they need most of all – to focus everyone’s attention on what’s happening. The real danger is when people start to forget.’
‘What about Mum?’
‘I think Desi’s resigned to a similar fate.’
‘But I thought you were going with her?’
Jackson keeps his eyes on the road. ‘We had to make a choice. If I’d gone with her, I couldn’t have got you.’
‘Jackson! We have to go back! Why wasn’t I told about this part of the plan?’
‘You weren’t told because everyone agrees that there’s no need for you to experience a Japanese jail. And they all knew that you wouldn’t desert them, if you were given the choice. We don’t think they’ll be looking for you now they have the others. They won’t realise there was anyone else involved – at least not straight away. I’ll go and find out what’s happened when you’re safely on a plane. No arguments – I promised Des I’d do this, and I intend to keep my word.’
‘What about my
passport?’
‘Kate packed up everything for you. We’re not stopping until we get there.’
Much of the rest of the journey passes in a blur of tears. When they get closer to the city, Jackson hands her a map, and she keeps her mind occupied trying to decipher the route. Only once they spot the airport signs do they begin to talk again.
‘Won’t you get in trouble, when you go back?’
‘I don’t know. Hopefully not.’
‘If you see them, will you tell them …’ She pauses, trying to figure out what she wants to say. ‘Will you tell them thank you?’
‘I promise.’
‘And will you let me know how many dolphins got away? God, I pray they all got away. That we didn’t do this for nothing.’
‘Whatever happens, Maya, it wasn’t for nothing,’ Jackson replies.
When they pull up outside the terminal, he grabs the bag from the rear seat. ‘It’s probably best I don’t come in with you. Everything you need is in there. I’d go and freshen up a bit before you approach the desk if I were you.’
‘Okay, thanks,’ she says, taking the bag.
‘I think your mum and Kate both put things in there for you,’ he says as he hugs her. ‘Call Pete when you’re home, okay? Tell him what’s happened. He’ll look out for you. I won’t leave until I’m sure you’re safely on the plane. I’ll park, then come and watch you from a distance until you go through to board.’
Maya gets out quickly. It’s all she can do not to race after the car as it drives off. Instead, she hurries inside the terminal and follows the directions to the bathrooms. She washes herself and brushes her hair, and then walks briskly towards the check-in line. She wants to get this over with as fast as possible.
As she goes through the gate, she is a bundle of nerves, but the officials are polite and pleasant. She keeps her eyes on the doorways in the departure lounge, half-expecting uniformed officers to appear. But there is nothing.