Free Dive

by Emma Shelford

  “Did it just wave at us?” Corrie said. It sounded silly out loud, but she had to say it.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Krista softened the words with a smile. “Come on, let’s see what Jules whipped up for a celebratory dinner.”

  ZEBALLOS

  Zeb pulled the boat into a tiny bay that was tucked away on a small island. Not many boaters used it, and today was no exception. They were the sole inhabitants on the water, and the few cabins that ringed the shoreline were dark in the starlight. He dropped anchor in the middle of the bay.

  Zeb was clean and dry now, after a toweling and a change of clothes before they left. Not that he minded being wet, but it had led to awkward questions from Corrie. Krista usually got after him for dripping on seats, so cleaning up was better all around. He hadn’t felt the same desire to jump in the water again, despite being fully clothed during his dip with Sucker. Clothes were less constrictive than a wetsuit, certainly, and they must have allowed enough water movement over his skin to satisfy his body. Zeb still didn’t understand it fully, but he appreciated not needing to pander to his body’s unusual whims for once.

  Once the boat was anchored, he found the others on the aft deck with beers in hand.

  “Where’s mine?” he said in greeting. Jules tossed him a can.

  “Bottoms up. We’re celebrating.” Jules took a generous gulp of his own beer.

  “What’s for dinner tonight?” asked Corrie.

  “Homemade lasagna,” Jules said with a proud smile. “Only the best for my team of sea monster wranglers.”

  “I hope it’s ready soon,” said Krista. “I’m starving.”

  “Never satisfied, my malcontented crew member,” Jules said.

  “That’s a big word for you. Sure you know how to spell it?”

  “Why would I need to spell it, when I have a perfectly functioning mouth?” Jules retorted. He flapped his tongue at Krista and Corrie burst into laughter. She looked good with a smile. The last couple of days had been so tumultuous and full of danger and work that Zeb hadn’t seen Corrie lighthearted much, although he guessed that was her default mode. It suited her.

  “I think we’ve earned lasagna,” Zeb said to distract his sister and friend from harping on each other, even if it were mostly good-natured. “We’ve accomplished a lot this week. I propose a toast.” He held up his can and the others mimicked him. “To new discoveries.”

  “To new discoveries,” Jules and Corrie echoed. Krista was silent, but she drank along with the rest.

  “We’ve found two new species,” Zeb said. He was nervous about what he wanted to say, but it had to be said. Right here, right now, was an opportunity that he would never get again. He hoped the others felt the same way. “What else might be out there? The ocean is a deep and mysterious place.”

  “We know more about the moon than we do the ocean,” Corrie said. Zeb nodded at her.

  “Exactly. We found two new species in a week. Who knows what we could find if we kept searching? Corrie, I would like to offer an extension of another week to your award. For your science work as well as creature hunting. It doesn’t have to be next week, but sometime soon. They’re waiting for us.”

  Krista stared at him with hard eyes that didn’t mask her concern, but Corrie’s face lit up.

  “Seriously?” She jiggled on the spot, seemingly unable to contain herself. “That’s incredible. Another whole week. I’m seriously the luckiest student in the world. I’ll need a couple of weeks—do some lab work, analyze what I have before we go out again—but oh, yes! I accept. A hundred times over.” She grinned with unrestrained glee.

  “What do you think, Jules?” Zeb asked his best friend, who looked amused by Corrie’s enthusiasm. “Are you up for another trip in a couple of weeks?”

  “As long as you pay me,” Jules said with an easy grin. “I’m game. We might talk about danger pay, though.”

  Zeb grinned back.

  “We can talk about that.”

  “Really?” Krista said to him with a grimace. “You’re going to keep doing this, aren’t you?”

  “Yep,” said Zeb with finality.

  “And nothing I say will dissuade you?”

  “Nope.”

  Krista stared at him for a moment, then she released a long-suffering sigh.

  “You’re eating into my vacation time, boy. I only get so much as a junior attorney. You’d better visit me at Christmas this year. I’ll be working Christmas Eve for sure.”

  “I will cook you turkey dinner,” Zeb promised. “Or bring along a dinner that Jules cooked.”

  “Probably safer that way,” Krista said. “I’m only agreeing because someone needs to keep you two weirdos in line, and although Corrie has proven her abilities in that regard, I don’t want her to shoulder the burden alone.”

  Zeb was relieved, more than he could express, so he simply looked at his sister with grateful eyes. She rolled her own.

  “Come on, Jules,” she said. “Let’s check your dinner. I can’t wait any longer.”

  “Leave out some blue curacao and vodka,” Corrie called after them. “I’ll make my new specialty, the flaming narwhal.”

  Jules waved to indicate that he had heard, and they disappeared into the cabin. Corrie turned to lean against the railing. Zeb joined her, and they gazed out at the dark sea and diamond-studded sky.

  “Flaming narwhal?” Zeb asked. Corrie giggled.

  “I make crazy drinks for parties. Different colors, densities, sometimes fire—my dad taught me a lot of chemistry, and I like to make my skills transferable.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “I could improve the flavor, honestly, but it looks amazing.” Corrie looked up at the night sky. All traces of sunset had vanished long ago, and the moonless night was dark and cool. Zeb was mesmerized by the reflection of stars glimmering in Corrie’s eyes. Water lapped quietly on the hull below them. Otherwise, they were immersed in peaceful silence.

  “I don’t know what to do about these creatures,” Corrie said after a moment’s pause. Zeb smiled to himself. He should have guessed that she wouldn’t let silence reign for long. “I can’t really tell my supervisor about them. We discovered two new species, but I don’t have enough proof to show anyone yet.”

  “What about your data and samples? And don’t forget the pictures.”

  Corrie looked undecided.

  “It’s a start, a necessary start, but a new species is big. Just because I have pictures and some DNA doesn’t mean anything, really. Pictures can be doctored so easily. I really should have kept Spiky if I wanted to go there, but I don’t, not yet. I don’t know, Zeb. This is such a weird position to be in. My whole life, I’ve kept my fascination with legendary sea creatures a secret, separate from everything else, everyone else. Certainly, my science career and my creature blog only overlapped in that I used my scientific analysis skills to look at blog data. Otherwise, totally separate. Do I say anything to my supervisor? When do I say something?”

  “Do you have enough data from your anemone project?” Zeb asked. He didn’t like Corrie’s uncertainty at telling her professor. If he had his way, only the four of them would ever know anything about strolias and brigars. They were from his mother’s world of stories. He didn’t want anyone else hunting and dissecting the creatures his mother had woven into her tales, not until he knew what he needed to know. He had thought that finding a strolia would tell him something, but it only brought up more questions than answers. He wanted—needed—to know more. Having teams of scientists combing the waters for his secrets would only make life more difficult.

  “Oh, yes,” said Corrie. “That’s not a worry. It was a successful trip, even discounting our bonus finds. I don’t have to make excuses.”

  “Then, keep it quiet for now,” Zeb said, trying to sound disinterested. Corrie glanced at him, and he wondered how successful he had been at keeping the emotion out of his voice. “No harm. We ca
n find out more before you take anything—” He swallowed. “Public.”

  “What’s your stake in this?” Corrie asked. Zeb blinked. Corrie didn’t dance around. What should he tell her? For one wild minute, he considered laying all his secrets bare. Common sense prevailed. Despite their intense time together, he had known Corrie for less than a week.

  “My mother told me tales of the sea as a kid, and they’ve always fascinated me. And the ocean is such a vast place.” He spread his arm out to showcase the waters surrounding them. “Who knows what’s out there?”

  None of that was a lie, but would it be convincing enough to satisfy Corrie? She smiled.

  “We’re starting to know, aren’t we?” she said, and Zeb breathed a sigh of relief. “Although I don’t know how we are finding these creatures so easily and yet they haven’t been documented before. What are they doing, following us around? Are you the pied piper of fish?”

  “I was wondering the same of you,” Zeb said. “I’ve been on the water all my life, and I’ve never seen either creature. It’s bizarre.” Zeb frowned. Corrie was right. Why were the strolias so easy to find? They were rare enough that Larry and Matt could only catch them off the tip of Harwood Island, but Jules simply had to toss in a jellyfish-baited line anywhere and they caught one. And why was the brigar close enough to their boat to sense the strolia slime? Corrie interrupted his musings.

  “You’re probably right about not going public yet. Jonathan would run with it and leave me out of the loop, anyway.” Corrie brooded for a moment. “Finding a new creature was my dream and my ticket to bigger things, if I’m being honest with myself. But now I can’t use that information until we know more. Or maybe never, depending on what we find. Already, someone tried to exploit the unicorn fish. Maybe it’s better that nobody knows. Except, if they were known, fisheries could be regulated and managed.” She sighed. “It’s a conundrum.”

  They stared at the water for several long beats. Corrie lapsed into an unusual silence. Zeb finally broke it.

  “Did you ever think this would happen?” He meant finding strolias, a brigar, the whole mad thing. Corrie obviously knew what he meant.

  “I hoped.”

  CORRIE

  Zeb excused himself to help with dinner. Corrie watched the waves for a minute longer, mulling over decisions and species, but she wasn’t a dweller by nature. She heaved herself off the railing, her entire body aching from the aftermath of their battle, and walked into the lab.

  Her computer caught her eye, and she opened it to check her email. She hadn’t sent her daily update to Jonathan yet. Jules would call her when dinner was ready, she was sure. She had time to dash off a quick message and attach her latest bit of data. She opened her mail.

  A message waited from Robert, her friend in the sequencing lab. She held her breath and opened it.

  Hi Corrie, I finally found primers that worked and got your samples sequenced. Hope you have a big wine budget for my speedy work. The results are weird, though. I ran one through the databases just for curiosity, and the matches it came up with were bizarre. Check it out.

  There was an attached file. Corrie opened it and scanned the results with a frown. Robert was right. The unicorn fish wasn’t coming up as any known species of salmon, although it was clearly related.

  What was the unicorn fish? She knew it was different, but how? This was evidence, though, clear evidence that she had a new species. Corrie smiled and saved the file. She would do more work in the lab, gather more data, before she was ready to reveal her big find. If she did.

  She shook her head to rid it her confusion and indecision and started an email for Jonathan. She dashed off a few inane remarks about the weather and sampling, then attached a couple of files that would show him her data. The data weren’t pretty, but they would do for now. She’d be home in two days, and then the real work would start.

  Jules’ laughter filtered through the hallway. Corrie closed her laptop. That was enough about data and supervisors. It was time to celebrate. Those flaming narwhals wouldn’t mix themselves.

  ZEBALLOS

  Zeb sat at the table feeling pleasantly buzzed. Jules had just stumbled off to his berth. Zeb wondered idly if he had made it into his bunk or was passed out on the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time Zeb had heaved him into bed. Corrie and Krista had left a half-hour before. They were surprisingly chummy now, in that way women got sometimes, like they had been whispering secrets to each other and had inside jokes. Considering Krista’s previous animosity, Zeb was surprised, or would have been if surprise could pass through his current cloud of alcohol-induced contentment.

  It had been a good evening. Jules’ lasagna was superb, of course, and Corrie’s ridiculous flaming drinks were a hit. The flavor was disgusting, but Zeb drank it down in support. He wished he hadn’t when Corrie only sipped at hers. She hardly drank anything, strangely, even though she was the life of the party. Jules drank like a fish, as usual, and Krista even lightened up to teach them a card game that was easy enough for Jules to learn in his state, and fast enough that they always beat him.

  He should really go to bed—the sun would rise in a few hours at this time of the year—but he was enjoying his contentment so much that it was hard to force himself into the oblivion of sleep. He roused himself and wandered to the galley. A snack would be perfect right now. He had a craving for jellyfish, actually. Was there any left from making strolia bait? His craving grew stronger and he rummaged in the cupboards. There had better be some left. He was sure he had kept some for himself.

  Ah ha, there it was. Zeb stuffed a piece in his mouth and chewed greedily. The jellyfish rolled over his tongue, the flavor salty and mild. He couldn’t understand why the others turned their noses up at it. When he had a craving for it, nothing else would suffice.

  His eye fell upon a stainless-steel bowl in the sink. Inside slouched the bag of slime grenades. Zeb slowed his chewing. They were the last remaining visible evidence of the strolias’ existence on board. Zeb swallowed. What were the visions like? Despite having Jules for a friend, Zeb had tried very few illegal substances. Someone had to be responsible for Jules. The psychotropic substance from the strolias was from the world of his mother’s stories. It was another clue, another piece of information about that world. How could he pass up a chance to learn more? Maybe the visions would tell him something important. How could he refuse?

  He threw the jellyfish back in the cupboard and reached for the bowl. The nori was soft and soggy at this point, but Zeb forced himself to chew and swallow a whole ball. He washed his hands and sat down on the galley floor, wanting to be prepared for anything. Would the visions incapacitate him like they had Jules and Krista? He would try to be quiet, to not disturb the others. He didn’t want them to know he was trying the slime.

  Zeb waited for a vision. His heart pounded, but he didn’t know if it was from the drug or his anticipation. A minute passed, then two. Five minutes later, Zeb leaped up and took another two grenades out of the bowl. He swallowed them as quickly as he could then sat back down.

  Ten minutes later, he conceded defeat. The substance in the slime, the drug that had affected Jules and Krista so quickly and so violently, had absolutely no effect on him.

  Why?

  MATHIAS

  Matt threw an empty beer bottle into the sea in a fit of rage. The Defiance bobbed gently in a calm bay that did not reflect Matt’s mood at all. He couldn’t go home tonight to see Bianca and be reminded of his failure, of all the things he could have given her and now were far out of reach. She would talk about Stacy and Las Vegas, no doubt, and the pictures of those damn rings would be tucked around the house everywhere. He couldn’t face that yet.

  It was over, though. What little money he’d managed to save up from his odd deckhand jobs had been spent on equipment for his lab, and thanks to that meddlesome bitch Krista and her merry band of do-gooders, it was all destroyed. Matt stormed into the galley and rummaged
in the fridge for another beer. His hand clutched empty air. Even his beer was gone? He kicked the fridge in disgust, and his sore toes only worsened his mood.

  Matt’s eyes glanced at a box of baggies on the galley counter. They held three doses of Sea Salt, the last of his stores.

  He hesitated for a moment then grabbed a baggie and opened it with shaking fingers. He might as well take it, for shits and giggles. The money from selling it would be a pittance, and Kiefer would be done with him if he couldn’t provide a steady supply. Matt tipped the baggie into his mouth.

  He nearly gagged from the taste, but he forced himself to swallow it. He could use an escape to make him forget about the whole mess. Maybe he would get a divine message to tell him how to turn his life around. He chuckled at the thought then stumbled outside.

  The visions hit him like a wall of water. Tentacles rose from the depths, eerily like the ones that had attacked the cabin earlier. Matt shrank against the cabin wall. The tentacles reached toward him, and one snaked around his torso before he could move. It dragged him remorselessly to the edge and over the railing. Matt screamed, but there was no one to hear his cries. With a sickening tilt, the ocean rose to meet his falling body.

  Cold water surrounded him tightly like a vacuum-packed filet. Matt gurgled and tried to figure out which way was up. The tentacles were gone, and his head felt clear despite his panic. He kicked in a desperate attempt to reach the surface.

  The muscles in his legs were hot. He shot forward through the water with speed disproportionate to his effort. Matt’s eyes widened, and he almost forgot that he needed air. How had his legs grown so strong?

  His lungs burned in reminder, and he kicked upward. He broke the surface with a tremendous leap to the sky. He gasped the clear night air in relief.