Free Dive

by Emma Shelford

  “I’m in the last year of my accounting degree,” he said with animation. “I’m looking at the big firms for my next step. It’s exciting times. Finally, out of school and into a proper job, making real money, on track for advancement. I’m more than ready for it.”

  Not my life at all, thought Corrie. But Trip would say he’s a good catch. David continued to wax poetic about the courses he was taking and tax season approaching. A part of her yawned violently at his description of corporate finances, but a larger part was attracted to him. He was easy to look at, with large hazel eyes and pleasingly broad shoulders. Corrie pondered her attraction while he talked. Was it looks alone? Was it an attraction of opposites, his stable, even-keeled life compared to her unknown future in science? She didn’t know, and the jumping balls of green and blue cornstarch on the speaker held no answers.

  “What are your plans for next Tuesday?” David asked her. Corrie pursed her lips in thought.

  “Clean my fish tank.” She waved to indicate she was joking. “Why, what’s up?”

  “Do you want to go out for coffee with me?”

  Corrie looked at him in pleasant surprise. It had been a while since anyone had asked her out on a date. A vision of her ex-boyfriend Dylan snaked through her mind, but she banished him from her thoughts. He was no longer in control—she wouldn’t let him be, not anymore, not even in her mind. She gave David a wide smile.

  “Absolutely.”

  ZEBALLOS

  Zeb threw a soapy sponge into a bucket of water and wiped his brow with his sleeve. It had been far too long since anyone had given his father’s boat a good scrub. While it felt unnecessary, given that he had no plans to take the boat out, washing it gave Zeb something to do with his hands. It was hard enough work that he could avoid thinking, as well.

  A thump on the deck made him whirl around. Jules grinned at him.

  “You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, my friend,” Jules said when he saw the bucket of suds. Zeb shrugged.

  “But I can have a clean pig. What’s up?”

  “You still want to find a troba?” Jules shoved his phone at Zeb, who wiped wet hands on his jeans and took the phone with a raised eyebrow. “Then we need the author of this blog.”

  Zeb scanned the webpage. Its simple template was filled with articles. Paragraphs upon paragraphs of written material, illustrations, even charts and figures populated the pages. Unquestionably, the author had poured a lot of time and knowledge into the articles, all of which were on the topic of…

  “Legendary sea creatures,” said Jules. He nodded vigorously. “Perfect, right? She’ll have answers, if anybody does. She really knows her stuff. Theories about evolution, DNA, I didn’t understand half of it.”

  “Wait, she?” Zeb went to the About page, which had nothing but a large question mark. “How do you figure?”

  “I may not know much about DNA, but I can internet-stalk with the best of them.” Jules looked pleased with himself.

  “Yeah, I know how much you know about Carole.” Jules’ ex-girlfriend posted copious pictures of her life, her cat, and her new boyfriend, and Zeb knew Jules looked at her feeds far too often. Jules scowled but ignored the comment.

  “The DNS registration for her website isn’t private, so I found out her city and a phone number for a department at the university in Victoria. That narrowed it down somewhat. Then, I looked at a few likely candidates and found some writing samples, journal articles and websites, mainly. One was an Honors thesis, and the style of the writing and graphs was eerily like the blog. But what really tipped me off was the dedication: ‘For the legends that inspired me.’” Jules lifted his hands in triumph. “We’ve got our girl. Basically, I’m a wizard.”

  Zeb bowed with outstretched arms.

  “All hail his magnificence.” Zeb looked at Jules expectantly. “Well, who is she?”

  “Her name is Corrie Duval. She’s a graduate student. She studies bacteria and cancer, or something, which apparently means she needs to sample seawater and anemones along the BC coast.” Jules hopped on a container and leaned back.

  “How do we get her to help us?”

  “Don’t worry.” Jules grinned at Zeb. “I have a cunning plan.”

  CORRIE

  Corrie stared at the filtration contraption. Seawater dripped slowly into the receptacle. A vacuum pump that sucked air out of the flask to speed up filtration whirred with a noisy roar that grated on Corrie’s ears. She wondered if she should bother filtering this water. Would it show anything? Certainly, it was unlikely to contain much, unless she could convince her supervisor that she had discovered the elusive sea cow from the ice cream dropped in the ocean near her. It aggravated her to have contamination like that, as if the seawater itself were out of line.

  Corrie sighed and grabbed a beaker to pour more water into the funnel.

  “Ah, Corrie.” Her supervisor walked past Mara’s bench to stop beside Corrie. “I’m glad I caught you.”

  “Hi, Jonathan.” Corrie tried to inject some brightness into her voice, but it still sounded flat and a touch morose. She sat up straighter.

  “You went sampling last week?” asked Jonathan. At Corrie’s nod, he said, “How did it go?”

  “Pretty good.” Corrie smiled brightly. It was funny how easy lying came to her boss. She had only been here a few months—she was still aiming to impress. “I got the water fine, and I tried to collect under the oily surface layer. But, I’m a little worried about contamination. What is the quality of my water? There’s so much human traffic.” Not to mention errant dairy products, she added silently.

  “Well, we can think of how to test for contaminants, and you can sample somewhere other than the pier.” Jonathan sighed and leaned against the lab bench with his arms crossed. “Until I hear about the grant results in a couple of months, I won’t know if we have funding for more extensive sampling efforts. However, I received an email from the dean this morning. There’s a new award that just came through the pipeline—you should certainly apply. One student from the ocean science program will get a week of ship time, anywhere on the BC coast, all expenses paid. It’s on an old fishing vessel, but the lab space looks adequate, I saw pictures. I read the award through, and everything looks on the level.”

  “Wow,” Corrie breathed. She’d never heard of such a generous award before. “Do I have the qualifications?”

  “You only have to be an ocean science student at the university. I’ve emailed you the application. Make sure you submit it, it’s due Friday.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll do it right away.” Corrie’s eye caught her rapidly draining filter funnel, and she scrambled to pour in more seawater. Jonathan pushed off the lab bench.

  “I won’t keep you.”

  “Who is funding the award?” Corrie asked. Jonathan paused and turned.

  “Some rich kid with an inheritance, according to the grapevine. Apparently loves science, wants to contribute.” Jonathan’s tone indicated clearly what he thought of the rich kid who loved science without schooling, and Corrie suppressed an eyeroll with difficulty at her boss’ snobbishness. “It’s an opportunity that you shouldn’t let pass you by. Even if the funding for the lab comes through, I could never afford to send you on a solo cruise like this.”

  “I’ll send the application in today,” Corrie said, and Jonathan walked out of the lab. Corrie poured more water into the funnel with trembling fingers. Could she win this award? An opportunity like this would be game-changing. She fantasized for a moment, her mind’s eye filled with ground-breaking scientific papers authored by her, shaking hands with the dean, naming a new species, Coralus duvalia...

  There was a dry sucking noise, and Corrie jumped to turn off the vacuum pump.

  ZEBALLOS

  Krista stared at her younger half-brother, apparently too appalled for words. Zeb knew they would come, though, sooner rather than later.

  “You did what?” Krista fina
lly ground out, her tone usually reserved for expressing her feelings about stepping in dog feces. Zeb had just told his sister about the award, at Krista’s apartment during his roundabout way home from Victoria. “And you’re only telling me now?”

  “I knew you’d act like this,” Zeb said, aggrieved and resigned at once. “That’s why I didn’t tell you until now.”

  “Damn straight. I would have stopped this harebrained scheme in its infancy.” Krista ran a hand through her pixie-cut black hair and sighed dramatically. “I can’t believe you would do something so stupid as to contact this sea monster blogger through her university. I supposed Jules put you up to it?”

  “It was his idea, but I decided to follow through. It was my decision.” Krista already thought Jules was a shiftless slacker with a few bricks short of a load, so Zeb felt bound to defend his friend.

  “This is bigger than just you, you realize that, right?” Krista poked him in the chest, then threw up her hands to emphasize her point. “The whole bureaucracy of the university is involved, not to mention the hopes of the student that you’ll dash when you withdraw the award.”

  “I’m not withdrawing anything.” Zeb crossed his arms and his chin lifted in a stubborn tilt. Krista’s eyes widened in incredulity.

  “You can’t be serious. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

  Zeb said nothing, only tightened his lips. Krista started ticking off points on her fingers with exaggerated motions.

  “One. It’s a complete waste of money. You’re going to blow Dad’s inheritance on a pleasure cruise to hunt for something that doesn’t exist. You could be investing that money into real estate, education, hell, even an upgrade on that old beater you call a car. Two. Huge waste of time. You won’t have a job if you’re out on the boat, and you can’t offer diving tours if you have this student on board.” Krista started to pace in her agitation. “Then there’s the student. Living in such close quarters with a stranger. What if she…” Krista looked at Zeb with a flicker of worry in her eyes. Zeb raised an eyebrow.

  “What if she finds out I’m a little different? Come on, Krista. I’m not that careless. I know what to avoid. I’ve managed to fool everyone so far.”

  “Jules knows,” she snapped.

  “Jules is practically family. And besides, I told him, he didn’t find out anything on his own. And that’s the whole reason for this trip, because I don’t really know anything either. I need to know if my mum’s stories were real. What that means to me.”

  Krista’s mouth worked, but with nothing to say to Zeb’s words, she changed direction.

  “This whole award idea is flimsy. And what if this student knows nothing? All you have is some monster-hunting blog to go on. It will be a monumental waste of time.”

  Zeb waited for a moment. When Krista’s tirade appeared to be over, he spoke.

  “Are you finished?”

  “I covered the basics, yes.”

  “Thanks for your concern. Just so you know, I’m not entirely clueless. I considered it all before I sent the email to the university. Hell, I even rented a suit and went to a meeting with the Dean of Science. I know you don’t understand my reasons, but this is important to me.” Zeb sighed and uncrossed his arms. “I’m sure nothing will come of this trip, but I’ll regret it if I never try. This student is only around for a week, but hopefully she’ll give me a head start. I’ll keep looking while the weather’s good. At the end of the summer, I’ll dock the boat and get a real job. Maybe Tony will hire me back for roofing again. But until September, I’ll be on the water. Searching.”

  Krista scrutinized him for a long moment with her hazel eyes narrowed. Zeb’s eyes, that astonishing pale gray, gazed calmly back.

  Krista threw up her hands in disgusted defeat.

  “You’re so stubborn. Whatever, it’s your life,” she said. Zeb relaxed the tension he hadn’t realized his shoulders were carrying. “But you’d better save a berth.”

  “For who?” Zeb was genuinely puzzled.

  “For me, idiot.” Krista punched his arm. Zeb rubbed it with a grin he couldn’t keep off his face. “Someone has to come along and keep an eye on you. At least while the student is on board. Keep you from doing anything more stupid than you’re already doing.”

  “Jules is coming too,” Zeb said.

  “Oh, great, dumb and dumber. This will be a riot.”

  CORRIE

  Corrie sat down at her lab bench with a grateful sigh and pulled her laptop toward her. She had a few minutes between experiments to kill—perfect time to check her email. She had been obsessively checking since Friday, when she had submitted her application for the new award. Surely, they had to decide soon. Summer was fast approaching.

  The telltale icon of an envelope sent her fingers tapping the mail app. There was junk mail from a laboratory supply chain, a chatty email from her mother, and one from the Department of Biology.

  Corrie’s heart pounded. Was it a Dear John, sorry to inform you, or was it good news? For one frozen moment, she was too frightened to move. Before she checked, both outcomes were possible. When she opened the email, only one would be true.

  “Stop dithering,” she whispered to herself, and jabbed at the screen with a resolute finger. The email popped open.

  Dear Ms. Duval,

  We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the George Artino award. This is a tremendous honor. The benefactor and captain of the boat would like to meet you early next week to discuss logistics. Please comport yourself as a representative of this university. Best wishes for a successful field season.

  There was contact information below for the rich kid, Zeballos Artino, an email address and a phone number. Corrie’s hands began to tremble. She had won. Of all the students in the department, she had been chosen for all-expenses-paid week of fieldwork. It was more exciting than the lottery, and it was hers.

  “Daniel!” Corrie burst out to her lab mate, who was pipetting stock solutions at a nearby lab bench. “Guess what? I won that award for the ship time!”

  “Really?” Daniel raised his eyebrows and looked impressed. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. I’m beyond excited.” Corrie’s mind raced through the implications. “This could open up everything. Think of the remote locations I could access, the transects I could sample. This can make my work truly competitive, get publications in the really great journals, open the doors for the best labs for my doctorate…” Corrie stared with awestruck eyes into the distance without seeing anything. Daniel laughed.

  “Easy, there. There’s a long road between ship time and publication. You need to collect some data first.” Daniel finished his pipetting and stripped off his gloves. “Since my projects have no need for fieldwork and I didn’t apply for the award, I can see clearly. Don’t you think the whole thing is a bit sketchy? I mean, this rich kid who loves science, the old fishing boat turned into a floating lab—you have to admit, it’s kind of weird.”

  “The university checked it out, so it must be okay,” Corrie said. She tried not to sound defensive, but it was difficult.

  “Yeah, it must be legit.” Daniel shrugged and walked over to Corrie. “Who is this guy, anyway? Let’s look him up.”

  Corrie turned to her computer and searched for Zeballos Artino.

  “What kind of a name is that?” Daniel asked.

  “Strange huh? I think his last name is Greek, but I have no idea about the first name. I wonder if his parents gave it to him, or if he chose it himself.” Corrie scrolled down the search results. There wasn’t a lot. A Facebook profile and a listing from a high school in a small town on Vancouver Island came up. The rest of the results showed only “Artino” or “Zeballos” separately.

  “Zeballos is a tiny village on the western side of Vancouver Island,” Corrie said. “And here I thought it was made up by his hippie parents.”

  “Check the Facebook profile,” Daniel said.

&nbs
p; She clicked through and they leaned in for a closer look. Most of the profile was private, so all they could see was his name and a sun-flared fuzzy picture of a young man holding up a can of beer. The picture was indistinct and gave no sense of his features beyond a glint of white-blond hair. Corrie leaned back in her chair in disappointment.

  “That was a dead end.”

  “He keeps a low profile,” said Daniel. “There’s nothing that screams rich kid, but nothing that doesn’t, either. Guess you’ll just have to meet him and find out. It’s not only you and him, is it?”

  “There will be a small crew,” Corrie said.

  “Good.” Daniel pushed off from the bench. “Keep us updated while you’re out there, so we can sample vicariously through you.”

  Corrie grinned as Daniel walked away, but she turned his words over in her mind. Should she be more concerned about this award? Was it too good to be true?

  No, she decided. It was an amazing opportunity, and she was going to take it and squeeze every last bit of use out of it. She wasn’t going to look in the mouth of this gift horse.

  Corrie arrived on her bicycle at the marina and locked it up at a railing beside an administrative building. It had been a long ride, but it was one of the first truly beautiful days they’d had this spring, and she hadn’t wanted to waste it. A ramp led down directly from the half-full parking lot to a dock that spanned the shoreline and branched off into six perpendicular docks. There were high-speed motorboats, dilapidated sailboats, tiny rowboats, and even a few small commercial fishboats. Metal clinked against metal, and the salt smell of the air made Corrie breathe deeply.