“What did you do next?”
“Well, I had touched the slimy thing, right, then I put a finger in my mouth by accident. Next thing I know, I’m tripping balls.” Larry’s eyes grew wide and he spread his hands around his face for effect. “Tripping absolute fucking balls. Pardon my French, my dear.” Larry patted Corrie’s hand, and she smiled indulgently.
“What, it had a drug-like effect?” Zeb leaned into the table again in fascination. His mother had never mentioned that little fact. Had she not known, or had she deemed it an unsuitable topic for a child? “How long did it last?”
“A half hour, maybe?” Larry took a deep draft of his beer with a satisfied smack. “It was unreal. Never had anything like it, and I dabbled in my younger years. All the boys tried some, same thing. I sold the fish to a friend of a friend—he wanted to keep the fish in a tank, bottle up the slime to sell.”
“That’s fascinating,” Corrie said. “I wonder what sort of bait would attract one?”
It was an excellent question, but Zeb had been hoping to hear more about the strange effects. It was unexpected information, and every little bit helped to enlighten his mysteries.
“You don’t want to play around with that junk,” Larry told Corrie with a paternal chuckle, and she dipped her head. “Pretty thing like you, shouldn’t get into that sort of mess.”
“I was just curious.” Corrie pouted then smiled. “Why hasn’t anyone caught one before?”
“Ha! You wouldn’t believe it. I was eating, looking at the fish, and dropped some in the cooler. That fish gobbled it up like a cat on catnip.”
“What was it?”
“A bit of—” Larry smacked his forehead and looked contrite. “Sorry, Matt paid me good money not to say. I don’t want to pay him back.” He guffawed. “I already spent it!”
A flash of annoyance crossed Corrie’s face. Zeb’s jaw tightened. Larry knew what bait to use to attract a strolia, and he wouldn’t tell them? Corrie’s eyes flickered to Zeb, and she gave him an expectant look. It took Zeb a moment to realize she was hinting for him to offer Larry money to talk. His eyes widened. Corrie thought he was rolling in cash, which was far from the truth. But could he afford not to find out?
“What’ll it take to loosen your tongue?” Zeb said. “Surely this Matt guy would understand if you’d drunk too much.” He pushed the beer closer to Larry. “You might not even remember saying anything.”
Larry shook his head.
“Sorry, friends, but my word is my bond. Besides, Matt Nielsen is one big son of a gun. Don’t want to get on his bad side, you know what I’m saying?” He stood up with a groan. “Thanks for the drink, folks. You enjoy your night.”
Larry ambled off to the bar. Corrie looked at Zeb.
“Damn it! He knows how to catch one.”
“And he won’t tell us.” Zeb tried to remain calm, but his chest was so tight he could hardly breathe. “We were so close.”
“At least we know it’s attracted to human food. That narrows it down—sort of.”
“Speaking of food, where’s Jules?” Krista stood in front of their table. “I thought we were getting dinner here.”
“I’ll find him,” Zeb said. He’d lost his appetite. The frustration of coming so close to information but not getting it gnawed at his stomach. To his surprise, Corrie stood with him.
“I’ll come too.”
“Come on,” Krista said with a wave to the door. “The village idiot was outside, last I saw.”
JULES
“It’s great stuff,” the man said. Jules couldn’t remember his name, although he’d introduced himself only minutes before. He was small and wiry, with a high-pitched voice. “You won’t regret it. No aftereffects, either. Just good, clean fun.” The man winked and Jules laughed.
“What the hell, I’ll bite. Why’s it so cheap?”
“Producer’s just getting started, trying to find out demand. Price will go up soon. Try it now while you can afford it.”
Jules dug into his pocket for his wallet. It was light—Zeb wouldn’t pay him until after the week was done—but there was enough for one hit. He slid out a bill and handed it to the man, who pocketed it and gave Jules a tiny parcel of twisted wax paper.
“Eat the cracker inside—it’s got the stuff on it. Tastes horrible, so down the hatch in one.”
Jules nodded. The man saluted him and walked away, pulling a gray hoodie over his head. Jules untwisted the paper. Inside was a saltine cracker, slightly discolored but dry. Jules grimaced, then he shrugged and popped the cracker in his mouth. The novelty of the drug attracted him—he’d tried other substances in the past, for kicks, but this was entirely new, according to the seller—and he didn’t see any reason why not to do it. The price was right, and he didn’t have to do any work until tomorrow. It wasn’t as if what he did would matter to anyone.
“There you are,” Krista’s strident voice called out. Jules swallowed the cracker and turned around. His three boat mates walked toward him, and he mustered an easy grin.
“Hi, all. Find out more about your fish?”
“A bit,” Zeb said, his calm face stoic as usual, although traces of frustration marked his mouth for Jules’ experienced eyes to see. “Tell you more on the boat.”
“Come on, we’re hungry.” Krista waved at him impatiently, and Jules slowed his approach to annoy her. “What were you doing out here, anyway?”
“Trying new things. Hey, maybe I should get that dealer back here. You could stand to loosen up, Krista.”
“Dealer?” Zeb looked worried. Jules did his best, but Krista’s uptight influence infected Zeb from time to time.
“Yeah, hot new product on the market. Still new, so it’s cheap enough that even I can afford it. Good times for half an hour, and no aftereffects. What’s not to love?” Jules continued toward the pub’s entrance. “Let’s order.”
The pub jumped to the left. He stumbled when the ground buckled to account for the pub’s movement.
“Jules?” Zeb grabbed his arm. Alarm colored his voice. “What’s happening?”
“Damn pub moved on me,” Jules muttered. “Tell it to stay still.”
Corrie gave a murmur of consternation, but Jules only had eyes for the enormous humpback whale lounging behind the pub. It was a lurid purple with blue eyes like crystals and five horns surrounding its upper lip.
“Why does it have five horns?” Jules said. “Seems excessive. A waste of good horn, if you ask me.”
This struck him as quite witty, and he started to laugh. Zeb whirled him around until they were face to face. His pale eyes stared into Jules’ own.
“What did you take?”
“Told you, it’s new.” Jules’ eyes widened and he clutched Zeb’s shoulders to throw him to the ground. “Watch out! That whale is moving this way!”
The ground was no better. From nowhere, rivers of herring poured in between him and Zeb. The smell of rotting fish was intense, and Jules threw his arms up as a shield. All his muscles felt hot. Then, everything started to jitter, but he wasn’t sure if it was the world or himself. The whale rolled over the pub, and a large flipper pinned Jules’ legs and torso. He flailed wildly, but the flipper was far too heavy. The whale rolled further, and then Jules didn’t know anything, anymore.
CORRIE
Zeb lifted the shuddering Jules around his torso. Krista grabbed Jules’ legs, but one kicked out of her grasp. Corrie shook herself out of her shock and ran to help. She and Krista each gripped a leg firmly and the three of them hauled Jules away from the staring patrons of the pub.
“To the dinghy,” Zeb panted. “There’s no clinic on this island. If he keeps this up, it’ll be quicker to take him to the nearest hospital if we’re on the boat already.”
Corrie nodded and looked at Jules. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his eyes darted wildly to look at things that only he could see. She shuddered at the memories his actions dredged up
and clenched Jules’ spasming leg more securely.
At the dinghy, she did her best to lower his leg into the little vessel. Krista threw hers in unceremoniously and leaped to the motor, but Zeb carefully laid Jules’ body against the hull and tucked a life jacket under his swinging head. The motor roared to life and they zoomed away from the dock. Corrie hugged herself against the cool night air and counted backward from one hundred to distract herself. When they were at the boat, she could do things to help, keep busy. In the dinghy, there was only the spasming Jules and her thoughts. She pushed the image of a body lying on a tiled bathroom floor, pale and unmoving, out of her head and focused on counting.
At the boat, Zeb jumped out and moved the winch to haul up the boat. Krista attached the dinghy and she and Corrie climbed out. Jules stayed in the bottom until the dinghy was in place on the deck, then Zeb gently put him in a fireman’s carry and took him to their shared cabin. Corrie rushed into the galley and found a container and towel then raced to the cabin. Zeb was tucking Jules into the bottom bunk when she burst in.
“Here are some things he might need,” she said. “How is he?”
“Calming,” Zeb said with a finger on Jules’ wrist. “And his heartrate and breathing are strong. I think he’ll be okay. Whatever he took seems to be wearing off already.” He looked at the items in Corrie’s hands. “Good thinking. You do this often, do you?”
He clearly meant the comment in jest, despite his usual deadpan delivery, but Corrie flushed. The truth was closer that Zeb realized. She put the container and towel on the floor beside the bunk.
“It might come in handy.” She retreated before Zeb could probe further and joined Krista in the galley.
“What an idiot,” Krista grumbled. “Seriously, he never thinks about consequences. Never thinks, actually. He’s been like that as long as I’ve known him. It doesn’t surprise me that he found some experimental drug and then thought, ‘Yes, that sounds like a good idea.’ Typical, really.”
“Stop it, Krista,” Zeb said from the doorway. “Keep your toxic comments to yourself.”
“I’m not the one with toxins,” she said, but she turned to open the fridge. “If we’re not en route to the hospital, I’m getting those cold cuts out. I’m starving.”
Corrie snuck a glance at Zeb. He looked worried and tired. Then he glanced at her.
“Do you think this has anything to do with the fish?”
Understanding lit up Corrie’s brain. The drug-like effect that Larry had described—he said it lasted for half an hour and was like an acid trip. Jules’ ravings had certainly sounded similar.
“Do you think they’re producing it commercially already?” she whispered. “Larry said it had only been a month.”
“What are you two talking about?” Krista demanded, her hands busy making a sandwich.
Zeb filled her in on Larry’s story. Krista continued assembling her sandwich, but her measured movements and tilted head told Corrie that she was listening intently.
“And he sold the fish to someone who wanted to ‘bottle it up.’ Make some money off it, I guess. Someone named Matt Nielsen.”
“Matt Nielsen?” Krista whipped around and stared at Zeb. “That’s what he said?”
“Yeah,” Zeb said, looking confused. “You know him?”
“Yeah, I know him,” Krista said darkly. “He’s my friend Erika’s brother. Erika moved to Campbell River to live with her aunt for our last year of high school. He’s a tool—Erika never had good things to say about him. I thought he was out of the country.”
A presence at the door made Corrie jump, but it was only Jules. He had a blanket around his shoulders. His pale face attempted to smile at them all, but it was clearly forced and didn’t last.
“Hi,” he croaked.
Zeb looked him over critically. When he appeared satisfied that Jules wasn’t about to keel over, he pushed his friend’s shoulder gently.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Zeb shook his head. “Seriously, man, one day it won’t be a good time, and you won’t spring back from it.”
“It wasn’t a good time now,” Jules said with a shudder. “Horrible visions. Crazy wild, I guess, but too much for me. Too vivid.”
“It is a new drug,” Corrie said. “Maybe it reacts differently to different people. Or maybe it mixed adversely with the alcohol in your system.”
Jules nodded then looked at Zeb, who stared at him with his arms crossed.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jules said. He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Good trip, bad trip, life goes on.”
“If you’re lucky,” said Zeb.
“Then that’s the way the cookie crumbles.”
Zeb gave his friend an incredulous stare. Corrie bit her lip. What did Jules mean? Before Zeb could follow up, Krista pitched in with a change in topic.
“So, let me sum this up for those of us who were writhing around on their bunks. Matt Nielsen bought a unicorn fish off a fisherman and knows what bait to use to catch more. He’s trying to collect a substance from this fish to sell and is so far successful. Does that about cover it?”
“This unicorn fish, this potentially new species of fish, never before documented by science, is being exploited to make street drugs?” Corrie felt her anger rising. “There might only be one school of these fish in the entire world, and they’re already being harvested without knowing anything about them. It’s criminal.”
“And it’s Matt Nielsen,” Krista added. “He’s a bastard. Take him down, I say.”
“We need to find a unicorn fish,” Corrie said. Deep in her gut she felt the tragedy of losing a new species before it had been found. It wouldn’t be the first time in human history. “We need to document it, learn about it, save it. Before it’s too late and they’re all gone.”
Everyone stared at Zeb. He paused for a moment, thinking.
“So,” he said at last. “We need to test bait to catch a st—unicorn fish. We need to find Matt Nielsen and stop him, somehow. And we need to keep doing your science, Corrie. Does that sound right?”
Corrie had almost forgotten her anemones in the uproar. She nodded emphatically.
“Yes, yes, and yes,” she said.
“I’m in,” said Krista. “For the next five days, anyway. Then it’s back to the real world, and the weird fish will have to fend for themselves.” She stared at Zeb, who looked away from his sister’s meaningful glare.
“Let’s do it,” said Jules. “Might as well. But how do we figure out the bait?”
“It’s some sort of food,” Zeb said. “Something that fisherman Larry likes to eat. Tomorrow, we’ll go grocery shopping and try a bit of everything.”
ZEBALLOS
Jules went to bed without eating. Zeb, Corrie, and Krista raided the fridge and pulled together enough bread, cheese, and meat to satisfy before they turned in. Zeb hardly spoke. He was consumed with thoughts of the unknown Matt Nielsen collecting strolias and plans to capture one of his own. Krista tried to draw him out once or twice, and it wasn’t until Corrie gave him a concerned look before heading to bed that he realized his sister had been trying to shelter him from Corrie’s curiosity over his silence.
Jules was asleep when he slid into his bunk. Zeb thought he would be tossing and turning all night, but when the sun streamed in the tiny window at daylight, he sat up with a start. Jules was already gone, so he dressed and headed to the galley. Today, they would discover what strolias were attracted to. Today, they would catch one. He had a good feeling about today.
“You’re up already,” he said to Jules, who was flipping pancakes in the galley. Jules bent down to rummage in the fridge for milk.
“I figured making breakfast was the least I could do after last night. Besides, it is what you’re paying me for. Here, take this to the table.”
Jules handed Zeb a plate with a stack of pancakes teetering haphazardly on it. Zeb hesitated.
“You feeling okay?”
> Jules swallowed, then shot Zeb a grin.
“Yeah, sure. I bounce back from everything.”
“Okay.”
Zeb hovered for a moment more, but there didn’t seem to be anything else to say, so he carried on to the table with his plate. Moments later, Corrie wandered in, a huge yawn splitting her face.
“When’s the first station?” She sank onto the bench and eyed the pancakes with appreciation.
“That’s up to you,” said Zeb. He pulled out a chart of the area and spread it in front of Corrie. He pointed at a location. “We’re here, in this bay. We could do the two stations you had planned today, here and here. Or, we could go to the grocery store in Nodales.” He pointed at the chart again. “And pick up supplies for catching our fish. Then we could do one of your stations in the afternoon.”
Corrie’s eyes gleamed.
“Well, yeah. Let’s do it. I really need to take those samples, but the unicorn fish…” She studied the chart for a moment. “Could we do my second station in the evening? Is that crazy? I don’t mind working into the night, if you’re okay with diving after dinner.”
Zeb was impressed by her dedication. As far as he was concerned, he was working this week, twenty-four hours a day. And if something he could do would further his hunt for strolias, he was on board.
“Not crazy at all,” he assured her. “We’ll do it.”
Zeb loaded a plate with pancakes and carried it to the door. He was already composing a shopping list. What sort of hand food would someone be eating while watching a fish?
“If you see Krista, tell her I’m hauling anchor.”
By the time Zeb had started the engine and taken up the anchor, Krista had finished her breakfast and come into the wheelhouse. She took the wheel while Zeb prepared the dinghy. Fifteen minutes later, they launched the little boat, and he and Corrie zoomed to a distant dock on the beachfront of a town.
“What are we looking for, do you think?” Corrie said as he held the door open for her at a corner grocery store.
Free Dive Page 11
