by Scott McEwen
“Okay,” Wyatt broke into Jalen’s earpiece again. “Enough of Mr. Blue Planet. Lose this guy and get her out of there.”
Thankfully, Jalen noticed that the enthusiasm in Hi Kyto’s eyes had glazed over a bit, so after another fifteen minutes of lectures from the young environmentalist with his fresh pu’er and his beanbag bully pulpit, Jalen stood. “This has been cool, but I’m gonna…”
“Wait,” Hi Kyto said. “You know what Jalen was just saying?”
“Tell me.” Morg leaned in, everything about him exaggerated.
“Do we ever do anything different? Do we ever break the mold and get out of our usual day?”
Morgan looked around him. “Our usual days are pretty remarkable.” He nodded at the skyline view from the wall of glass.
Hi Kyto shrugged. “Work is still work. And the remarkable becomes … unremarkable after a while. What do we do that isn’t studying, that’s different or fun?”
“I’ve got an idea.” Morgan grinned. “Something very different … give you a hint: it involves one of the most amazing fish in our ocean and buckets of blood. Who’s up for an afternoon on the water?”
CHAPTER 43
Morgan kept his boat, a Bahama 41, at Pier 39. It actually belonged to the start-up, and thanks to the deep pockets of their benefactor, John Darsie, Ocean Guardian had what amounted to a fleet of boats, from giant workboats to fast, fishing-style center-console go-boats. Morgan preferred the latter variety. When he got to the marina, he picked up sandwiches from a restaurant, some drinks, and snacks. “All aboard!” he said cheerily to the group.
“Wait. I don’t think you should go alone,” Wyatt’s voice came in through Jalen’s radio. “See if you can bring me. Make something up.”
Jalen stood on the dock, hesitating. “Hey, Morg … so my brother’s in town. He loves boats. Maybe he should come with us?”
Morg laughed. “Well, unless he’s hiding behind those crab traps over there, he’s not gonna make it in time.” He began untying the boat from the dock. “But it’s cool if you don’t want to come. The water’s not for everyone.” He gave Jalen a look and tossed a line into the stern.
“Come on!” Hi Kyto called from the bow, sunglasses on, waiting. “We’ll meet your brother later. Promise.”
“Jalen, don’t do it.” Wyatt snapped in the radio. “I don’t want you with her alone. Remember this girl has probably murdered scores of people. Don’t risk it.”
Jalen looked down at Hi Kyto, now slathering herself with sunscreen. He had to decide quickly. In a rapid motion, he removed his earpiece, put it in his pocket, pulled out his phone, and turned it off. “Let’s go.”
“Great,” Morgan said, pulling two buckets of pigs’ blood from his onboard refrigerator. “I have a friend who has an organic farm … the pigs who gave their blood for this were killed as humanely as possible.”
“A merciful slaughter?” Hi Kyto asked.
“Well, yes. It’s brought into a pen … the farmer, who the pig has come to know and trust, puts his arm over his forward shoulder.” At this, Morg reached out and put his own hand on Hi Kyto’s shoulder. “Then he draws a 9mm from his waistband, putting it behind the pig’s ear, so the pig can’t see it, and then…” Morg lifted his hand pointed like a gun, and raised it up behind Hi Kyto’s ear. “Bam!”
She jumped. “You jerk!” She slapped his shoulder.
“So the pig doesn’t know anything. They string the pig up and slit its throat so the blood fills buckets. Totally humane … Anyway…”
Morgan secured the buckets and started the engine of his boat, the Kid Captain, and continued his chatter as they eased out of the slip. “She’s nine hundred thousand dollars new.”
“Sounds like Darsie,” Hi Kyto piped in. “Gotta have the best boat on the water.”
Morg eased away from the dock. “This little number,” he said, pointing to a joystick, “is a Helm Master, a control system that allows for simultaneous operation of both the engines and bow and stern thrusters. Basically, it’s like training wheels. Makes it possible for inexperienced drivers to maneuver in tight quarters. You could probably even do it, Jay.”
Jalen held up a hand. “No, thanks.”
“Yes, sir, she’s a pretty sweet little thing,” Morg continued. “Got a center console, a fishing tower. We’ve got another seven boats in Stockton and twelve in Seattle, but those are mostly arctic fishing vessels, converted. I like the small boats, though. They’re faster. More fun.”
“Small?” Jalen looked around the yacht; from its bow to sleek stern, it stretched forty-one feet. He wondered if he’d ever been around someone so smug, even in his parents’ supper club of ex–professional athletes.
“Don’t see any fishing rods on board,” Jalen said, looking around.
“No, man. We’re not going to catch anything.”
“Then why the four gallons of chum?”
Morg didn’t answer. Instead he smiled and bumped it into gear, churning up a wake as they passed the yellow NO WAKE signs.
Morg at the helm, the Kid Captain cruised out into the San Francisco harbor; Jalen looked back at the marina and saw Wyatt back among the floating docks and yachts watching them slip away, powerless to help if something went wrong out on the high seas.
Morg throttled down, the triple Yamaha 425s effortlessly bringing the stepped hull to plane. Skipping along the blue-gray water, they cut a white, knifelike line under the Golden Gate Bridge. Jalen felt a chill as the morning fog whirred across his back and neck. Hi Kyto pulled up her hoodie and tucked her hands into her sleeves.
“Don’t worry,” Morg yelled over the thrumming motor. “It’ll warm up once we get out into the water.”
“Where are we going?” Jalen called out.
“Farallones,” Morg called back.
Jalen nodded, though the name meant nothing to him.
The boat steamed out into the Gulf of the Farallones, leaving San Francisco behind, disappearing behind a fogbank. Feeling like he was slipping off the edge of the life he knew, and recalling some of his Valor training, Jalen kept track of the Kid Captain’s heading, nearly due west, driving for about an hour, talking little until the targeted series of islands rose out of the water like skeletal remains, a hunk of lower jawbone dotted with jagged, crumbing teeth.
“It’s a natural preserve.” Morg cut the motor and let the boat drift toward the islands. “This is my place. The one piece of this godforsaken planet where I can come and reset. We can’t actually step foot on the islands, but to me—that’s why it’s perfect. Untainted. By the way, if we see any park rangers, I know most of them. They’re cool with me.”
“Kinda creepy,” Hi Kyto said as they drifted into the cool shadows. Above them, gnarly protrusions of rock covered in seal and seagull shit.
“Yeah, American Indians who lived in the Bay Area used to call them the Islands of the Dead.”
“That’s not eerie at all.” Hi Kyto smiled at Jalen.
“There’s only one house on the island and scientists live in it,” Morg said, checking the wind and tide. “It’s pretty cool. I stayed there once. For a birthday party.”
“Of course you did,” Jalen muttered, pulling off his sweatshirt. It had gotten warmer, so hot in fact that he wanted to take off his shirt, but left it on.
“Now for the main event.” Morg reached in the minifridge and retrieved the buckets. “The Farallon Islands—in fact, all of this area—is a habitat for great white sharks. They come out here to feed on the seals. Here, Julie,” Morgan said, surrendering the leather captain’s chair, “put the boat in gear and loop around the islands. Jalen and I will leak the chum. A great white can smell this blood from forty miles away, maybe more. Hopefully we’ll see some surface.” He pried the top off the first bucket.
Jalen drew back, wincing at one of the foulest smells he’d encountered in all his life.
“Yeah, that’s what they like. Yum, yum, it’s lunchtime.” Morg leaned over, pouring the liquid into the c
erulean waters.
Jalen did the same with his bucket, suppressing his nausea as a bit splashed on his cheek. “Organic, huh?” He snorted, the smell completely enveloping them.
“Every bit of it.” Morg laughed.
They laid down about a thousand yards of chum, the blood and oil leaving a slick trail on the surface as they idled back through it.
Jalen thought of Mackenzie and how much he would have rather been on Lake Tecmaga in the Sea Goat than with Morg in these creepy islands, drifting through blood.
“What now?” Hi Kyto asked, her voice slightly echoed.
“We wait. Maybe eat something ourselves.” Morgan retrieved his sandwich from the same refrigerator and offered her half.
“Kinda lost my appetite,” she said.
“Too bad. It’s just a little blood.” Morg took a bite of his combo. “So Jay, you look really familiar. Are you a professional gamer as well?”
“Nah, man,” Jalen said. “Just play for fun.”
“That’s funny, ’cause I really feel like I’ve seen you before.”
“I don’t think so,” Jalen said, feeling a little annoyed.
Just then, a small splash on the port side. “Ah, looky, looky,” Morg said. “Think we’re getting lucky.”
Hi Kyto laughed, almost delighted, as she crossed the bow. They all leaned over and saw a ripple along the water, followed by a gray fin breaching the surface.
“Woah, that a great white?” she asked. Jalen noticed her eyes, glistening with excitement, like they did in Red Trident.
“Nah, mako.” Morg slumped down and returned to his sandwich. “They wouldn’t even be here if there was a great white in the neighborhood.”
And indeed, in the next half an hour, the shark activity slowed down. Morg finished his sandwich and talked about what he called “the cause and effect.”
“The shark reacts to the chemical,” Morg said. “Like a dog and a dog whistle. It doesn’t know why, but it simply comes. It’s programmed to investigate. Chemicals. They are what link us to the beasts. Pheromones are in the blood. They trigger the shark’s instincts to come sniffing around. What do you think makes a male human react more favorably to a girl? Or lets a girl instinctively know when a male is scared or aggressive?”
“He’s ripping off Sapolsky, the biologist.” Hi Kyto smiled, chiming in. “We’re all slaves to chemicals, but it doesn’t all add up.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why would they react to pigs’ blood? I mean, evolutionarily speaking, how many pigs are falling in the water?”
“Well, if I could get seal blood, I would. It would be more effective. Wanna go club some seals?” Morgan laughed. “I’m kidding.” He reached down into a compartment under the helm and retrieved three masks with snorkels. “Who’s hot?”
Hi Kyto again flashed a nervous smile. “Nooo.”
“You really wanna get in?” Jalen said to Morgan, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“What about the blood?” Hi Kyto looked down at the buckets.
“Ah, it’s dissipated.”
“And the sharks?” she asked.
“That’s exactly why I want to get in.” He winked at Jalen. “Don’t you want to look back on your life, when you’re fifty or sixty years old, and say, ‘I swam with sharks’?”
“Think I’d like to at least make it to fifty or sixty,” Hi Kyto said. “This seems like a good way to ensure an early death.”
“Come on. We’ll stay by the boat. If we see any activity, we’ll just get out. Look, the ladder’s right here.” He flipped a fold-up metal ladder off the back. “Ladies first.” Morg smiled at Hi Kyto.
Hi Kyto groaned. “Good thing I wore a sports bra.” She rolled her eyes and snatched up a mask. She peeled off her top. “You coming, Jay?”
Jalen nodded. Her lean shoulders, the smooth dip at the small of her back. He turned his head, trying not to stare.
“You scared?” she teased.
“Scared of cold water?” He looked at her for a second, and then dove in, the temperature taking his breath the instant he hit the surface.
“Go, Jay!” she cheered. “Is it cold?”
“That would be an understatement.”
“Hey, you may want this,” Morg said, holding up a pneumatic speargun.
“Don’t think that’s going to do much to a great white,” Jalen called back.
“Great whites aren’t the only thing to worry about in the waters,” Morg said. “But how ’bout this?” Again he ducked down into the boat and popped back up, this time holding out a sawed-off shotgun. “It’s from the boat’s tender. If ever traveling off the coast of Mexico or Africa, it’s possible to run into—it’s funny to say, but—marauders … you know, pirates.”
“You always have weapons aboard?” Hi Kyto asked, taking the weapon from his hands.
“Absolutely … There are more in the hold. Be careful. It’s loaded with slugs. Could punch a hole in a boat, or a human.” Morg took the gun and put it back where he found it.
Still treading water, Jalen secured the mask to his face and dipped his head under. Immediately, Jalen saw something moving through the kelp directly underneath him. He felt a flash of panic, but then realized it looked more like a puppy with flippers.
“Look, seals!” He could hear Morgan yelling above the surface. Underneath them, down in the cold, blue water, dozens of seals.
Jalen turned back to the boat and saw a splash. A whirl of white bubbles. Two thin, pale legs gracefully breaststroked toward him. He purged his snorkel of water, took a deep breath, and dove down again. He could feel the cold constricting his muscles, shaking his whole body. During the wrong time of year, there was a real threat of hypothermia, but since it was summer, he knew the water, even if uncomfortable, was probably warm enough to stay in for a half hour.
Jalen surfaced and pushed his mask up on his head.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” Hi Kyto said, treading water several feet from him. “It’s cold. So damn cold.”
Jalen dove down again, panning around until again he saw something, this time it was pale—the color of moonlight—and lumbering in a circle. He could still see the makos circling in the distance. But this was no mako. It was giant—thirteen feet, if he had to guess, longer than a Mini car.
The black eye caught sight of Jalen, and the creature’s course shifted.
Jalen kicked slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements as he scanned the water. Where is she? Without taking his eyes off the shark, he swam steadily toward the surface. He’d almost made it when there was another splash, spooking the shark, and it dove back down. More bubbles swirled as Morg kicked toward him. Jalen surfaced and saw Hi Kyto lackadaisically backstroking toward the Kid Captain.
“I’m freezing.” She climbed the ladder and shook the water from herself like a cat.
Jalen dipped his head back down and moved quickly, looking around for the shark again. He felt something on his shoulder—a hand—and he spun around to find Morg, also below the surface, his hands upturned in a what-do-you-see gesture.
Jalen shook his head. Nothing. The beast was gone.
CHAPTER 44
On the noisy voyage back, Jalen said nothing of what he’d witnessed, and again the trio fell quiet, entranced by the boat as it skipped along the surface.
“Can’t believe it,” Morg said. “Took the whole morning off and got skunked. What did we do wrong…” He trailed off, then answered his own question. “We didn’t do anything wrong, that’s nature. Sometimes it just doesn’t work. Plus, man has villainized this creature and almost hunted it into extinction. I’ll bring you guys back … it’s better in the fall.”
“I had a nice day anyway,” Hi Kyto called out cheerfully, the wind drying her long black hair that she’d clasped at her neck.
As soon as they were within ten miles of shore, Morgan fastened his Apple Watch to his wrist and began furiously tapping on it again. “So sorry, Julie…”
Jalen,
for the life of him, could not get used to him calling her that. She was Hi Kyto. She created Hi Kyto. Julie didn’t fit. It was the name a parent gave a child so she could fit in in the United States. Julie was not a choice. Hi Kyto was who she wanted to be.
“I was hoping to spend the whole day with you guys, but I got a film crew coming in from the Netherlands to talk. So I gotta take them out, give them a presentation…” Morgan finished his tapping.
“That’s okay.” Hi Kyto looked at Jalen and smiled coyly. “We can figure out something to do for the rest of the day.”
“Hopefully, I can make it up to you tomorrow. Maybe we can hang out after work?”
“Well, Jay and I had planned to practice.”
Morgan shot Jalen a funny look. “Oh right, the tournament. You guys are playing. You don’t strike me as the gamer type, Jay. You seem too … built.” Morg laughed.
“Genetics,” Jalen offered, feeling his pulse slightly rise. He had put on some muscle weight in his short time at Valor. A few weeks of sunshine and hill runs, and his body had become what it was meant to be. “You a gamer, Morg?”
“Used to be,” Morg said, steering toward the shore that was now visible.
“Whatever,” Hi Kyto chimed in. “He was playing up until just a few weeks ago.”
“Don’t have time for that now. Gotta play games that matter in real life, ya know. You guys are lucky … still young.”
“Aren’t you like, eighteen?” Jalen asked. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen and a half. Just enjoy this time,” Morg said, ignoring Jalen’s question, “before responsibilities start to weigh you down.”
“Hi Kyto—I mean Julie—has got a pretty important job,” Jalen said. “Homeland security’s not responsibility enough for you?”
“My god. Yes, Red Trident, for sure. Julie’s phenomenal. But, it’s just … different.” He sighed. “So, where do you guys want me to drop you off?”
