Operation Dolphin Spirit

by Kimberli A. Bindschatel

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Author's Note

  The adventure continues...

  Other Novels by Kimberli A. Bindschatel

  Thanks

  Dedication

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  A dolphin lay sprawled on the sand. A gaggle of onlookers had gathered around, snapping pictures and generally looking anxious.

  The dolphin’s eyes were closed. The poor thing looked dead. It lay still. No movement, no breaths. My stomach clenched. Were we too late? I knew from my experience in Norway that dolphins can hold their breath for a very long time. It could be all right. But I wasn’t sure what was happening. I was pretty sure being stranded was not good, and wasn’t a common occurrence.

  The thing was, I was here in Bimini undercover as a marine mammal research intern, but I knew next to nothing about dolphins. I had a whole book about them in my suitcase. But I couldn’t possibly have prepared for this scenario in the time allotted. Hell, I couldn’t have prepared for this if I had read all the books I could get my hands on.

  I had arrived on the island less than an hour ago expecting to settle in and soak up a little sun before jumping into the mission. No such luck. I slept hard on the flight to Miami but now I was kicking myself for not using the time to do some more research on dolphins. I was not prepared for this. What were the odds it would happen the day I got here?

  The extent of my current knowledge of dolphin physiology consisted of what I’d read on Wikipedia on the plane—things like dolphins have teeth and breathe air. But, honestly, I’d thought I could wing it. On a regular day, weren’t interns expected to make coffee and file endless stacks of folders? But this wasn’t a regular day. A dolphin was stranded on shore, dying. I needed to get up to speed and fast. I willed it to live, racking my brain for anything I could do to help.

  I was no nurse, and even if I were, this was no ordinary patient. Water glistened on its back, giving it a sparkly, surreal appearance, a reminder that it didn’t belong out of the water, under the sun. It was out of its world. Vulnerable. I felt helpless, wringing my hands, not knowing what to do. I couldn’t stand to see an animal suffer.

  I gazed up at the noon sky. A day like today had to be the worst. The sun scorched the sand. The air was too thick to breathe. A flock of laughing gulls swooped about, biding time, waiting for an easy meal.

  Kerrie Malone, the dolphin researcher I was sent to work with, headed straight for the distressed animal, shooing people away, her two children tagging along after her. They had all come to greet me at the ferry dock and we’d barely had time for introductions when she got the call.

  Kerrie approached the dolphin slowly, cautiously, easing to her knees in the sand next to it. As she leaned over the animal, an eye opened and looked up at her.

  A flutter of excitement went through me. It was alive.

  The dolphin took a breath, drawn and labored, as though it was difficult to do while lying on the sand, gravity bearing down on it. I wanted desperately to comfort it but didn’t know how. I knew better than to touch it. I tried to say with my eyes, telepathically communicate, that we meant no harm, that we were here to help.

  A commercial float plane revved its engine and taxied out into the bay. It turned into the wind and the pilot put the throttle down. The propellers’ roar rumbled across the water as it went, then lifted off, turned, and disappeared behind the trees. I watched it go, wishing it had dropped me off a day earlier.

  The dolphin made no sign of fear or being disturbed by the plane. Maybe it had given up or maybe it was injured. “Please, please don’t give up,” I silently willed it.

  Kerrie reached into the dolphin’s mouth, took a hold of its tongue, and gave it a gentle yank. The dolphin squirmed, trying to pull away from her. This made Kerrie smile. Must have been a good sign. It still had the will to live. It didn’t seem fearful or react violently. Intelligent eyes focused on Kerrie, submitting to her aid. I decided the dolphin knew that she was there to help.

  Kerrie stood and heaved a sigh of exhaustion. She looked tired. Not sleepy, but a deep-seated weariness. I didn’t know if it was because she knew the long hours of work that lay ahead or if she had carried this fatigue to the beach with her. Either way, she pushed her sweaty blonde bangs off her forehead and went to work, shouting orders at the five men who were there to help while her son, Billy, clung to her leg. The boy must have been about four, blonde and blue-eyed, with a worn-to-threads stuffed turtle clutched in his little hand. Behind him was a younger sister, bouncing to and fro, occassionally trying to stuff fistfulls of sand into her mouth. Ugh, why do kids put everything in their mouths? Little scavengers… She must have been fresh out of diapers. Maybe that explained Kerrie’s weariness.

  The men went to work and Kerrie dropped back down to her knees and began to dig sand from under the dolphin’s flipper, allowing for it to hang below the body naturally rather than stay pinned against the ground. Billy dropped the turtle and tried to dig alongside his mother, pushing more sand into the hole than out of it.

  “Can I help?” I asked.

  Kerrie glanced at me. “Yes, great.”

  I headed for the other side of the dolphin.

  “Take my kids over there,” she said, pointing at a cluster of trees, “into the shade, and keep an eye on them. It’s too dangerous to be this close.”

  “Oh. Uh.” I looked down at the dolphin, then at her children. “Sure.” Watch the kids. Was this typical intern duty?

  I tried to take little Charlotte by the hand but she yanked it away. “C’mon,” I said, “Let’s go over here.”

  The girl toddled away from me. I followed and tried, once again, to take hold of her hand. She yanked it free with a fearful scowl, then started to cry.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” God, I’m terrible at this.

  How was I supposed to get her to go with me?

  “C’mere Girl. Come on!” I slapped my hip. “Who's a good girl? C’mon with me.”

  Kerrie glanced up at me with an expression that said, have you lost your mind?

  Great...

  Charlotte took off in an awkward toddle-run toward the water. Billy saw this and giggled while he ran after her.

  Shoot! Can kids swim? When did I learn? I don’t remember ever not knowing.

  I ran after them. “Billy! Charlotte! Stop right this instant!” Amazing how in the presence of children you immediately turn into your mother. I cringed at the thought.

  Dealing with kids wasn’t exactly my strong suit. Okay. It wasn’t my suit at all. Not that I don’t like kids. I just never had time with any. Give me a dog. Or any other animal. A dolphin. That I could manage. I’d even been bitch-slapped by a giant sea turtle once and didn’t lose my grip. But kids? Yikes.

  I scooped squirming Charlotte up just as she took her first steps into the water. “What were you planning on doing? Swimming to Miami? There are jellyfish in here, little girl.�
�� I looked around. “I think.”

  Charlotte arched her back and let out a red-faced, piercing scream. “Hush little baby,” I tried to rock her but this was like trying to get a decent grip on an eel. A loud one.

  I felt something slam into my legs. “Let go Lotty!” Billy banged his fists on my thighs doing his best to protect his sister from me, the wild-haired monster.

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay, she’s okay,” I shifted Charlotte’s weight to free a hand so I could reach for Billy, but he dodged me with that crazy ninja quickness tiny people seem to have. This time, when he rammed me, I was off balance trying to keep a grip on Charlotte and we all went over into the surf.

  I was trying to simultaneously put Charlotte back on her feet, spit sand and seawater out of my mouth, and wipe my wet hair out of my eyes with my forearm when I heard a familiar laugh. Oh god, not now. How does he always find me at my most awkward moments?

  “Hey, buddy, want to look through my binoculars?” Dalton squatted near Billy, holding out his prize. Billy gladly took them, grinning.

  “Me too! Me too!” Charlotte headed toward her brother, small hands grasping like little crab pinchers while she toddled.

  With the kids distracted, Dalton turned to me while I tried to tame my wet curls. “You look good with kids, McVie,” he teased, his eyes flashing amusement.

  “Oh shut it, Dalton,” but I was smiling, relieved he had saved me from coming unglued. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were coming in tomorrow?”

  “I changed my flight. I thought we might be able to spend some time together on the island before hitting the ground running.” We both looked over to the dolphin. “Doesn’t look like that’s going to work out as I’d planned.” Dalton turned back to me. “ I headed straight here when I heard about the stranding, but then I saw you being attacked by the most vicious of beasts.”

  I punched him in the shoulder while he laughed. We walked over to the kids and Charlotte immediately took Dalton’s hand when he offered it.

  “How are you so good with kids?”

  “Oh, I uh,” he cleared his throat. “I basically raised my younger brother and sister.” He never took his eyes off the kids, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “Hey, guys! Let’s race!” Charlotte and Billy squealed after him, the three of them churning up sand and laughter.

  I had thought about Dalton in a lot of different ways, but hadn’t considered that he’d make a great father. He was a complete natural. And he had a brother and sister?

  A golf cart came to a halt at the edge of the beach and a young Bahamian woman, about my age, trim and athletic with shiny black hair pulled into braids, got out and started to untie the poles and tarp that had been strapped onto the back of the cart. An older woman, gray-haired, round and soft, took a little more time to get out of the passenger side. The kids ran to her squealing, “Maria, Maria.” My kid-watching duties were over. Thank God!

  “Oh good, you’re here,” Kerrie said, rushing to help untie the load.

  Dalton and I exchanged a knowing glance.

  “I’ll be in the crowd,” he said and I followed Kerrie to help.

  The young lady nodded at me in the way of a greeting as she yanked on the strap to release it. “You must be Poppy. I’m Natalie.”

  “Nice to meet you. You’re Kerrie’s research assistant, right? ”

  “Give me an update,” Kerrie said, impatient.

  “I double-checked the tide chart,” Natalie said, turning her attention to Kerrie and the problem at hand. “High tide is in six hours. Ralph’s making a stretcher.”

  “Great.”

  Natalie’s attention moved to the dolphin on the beach. “Hey, is that one of the—”

  “Yes,” Kerrie said, giving her a silencing look. “Let’s just focus on getting it back into the water, okay?”

  “Sure.” She turned to me with an apologetic smile. “It seems you’ve arrived at a crazy time.”

  “I take it this isn’t very common?”

  “No. Not here on Bimini anyway. And I hope it isn’t like last time.”

  “Last time?” This had happened before?

  Kerrie motioned for Natalie to keep moving. She grabbed the buckets and towels from the front seat and followed Kerrie to the dolphin.

  Two of the Bahamian men who were there to help, with Kerrie’s direction, took the poles and tarp and started erecting a shelter over the dolphin—a kind of makeshift pop-up tent—while another dug sand from under the dolphin’s other flipper.

  Another local man took the towels from Natalie and dunked them in the ocean. Kerrie gave Natalie directions to cover the animal with the wet towels, then continually pour water over it to keep it cool. The man was to keep the buckets coming. He nodded in understanding, concern etched on his face.

  I stood there with empty hands. “I can help,” I said. “Is there another bucket?”

  “You know, if you could keep the crowd back,” Kerrie said without looking at me.

  I glanced at the small group of onlookers. Everyone seemed to be keeping a respectful distance. In other words, Kerrie was telling me to stay out of the way.

  I couldn’t blame her. She’d received a phone call not two days ago from the president of the university with a non-negotiable demand to take me on as an intern. No doubt, she thought I was the spoiled daughter of some rich donor. She’d do her duty and deal with me. But I doubted very much that she liked me being forced upon her. She saw me as someone she’d have to babysit.

  It was all right. I had been handed the intern job on a silver platter by my Uncle—Uncle Sam, that is. And I’d played the role of the spoiled daughter before. But in this setting, I didn’t feel it would serve my purpose. I needed these ladies to like and trust me. “I can keep an eye on the crowd and carry buckets. Please let me help.”

  Kerrie looked as though I was pressing the last bit of patience she had.

  “Okay, you can help Natalie. Whatever she tells you to do. Just…don’t touch the dolphin.” She turned away from me, shaking her head and reaching for her phone.

  “Don’t mind her,” Natalie said, leaning toward me. “She’s in super-stress mode. She feels responsible for all the dolphins here in Bimini.”

  “I can imagine.”

  She took the bucket from the man and slowly poured the cool sea water over the dolphin’s back, then handed the bucket back to him to be refilled. “She’s calling the Bahamas Marine Mammal Stranding Network now. It’s the standard protocol. She’ll give details and they’ll advise her from there.”

  “But I thought she was a marine biologist.”

  “She is. But she’s not a veterinarian.”

  Made sense.

  Natalie retrieved a carrying case from the golf cart and gave Maria the nod to leave with the kids.

  I joined her next to the dolphin. She handed me a clipboard and a measuring tape. “Hold that,” she said. I was reminded of my experience in Mexico helping document the sea turtles there.

  Kerrie, with the phone held to her ear, knelt in the sand on the other side of the dolphin. “The animal is alert and responsive. Labor in respiration is minimal.”

  Natalie handed Kerrie a thermometer, stethoscope, and syringe from the case. Kerrie worked quickly, taking the animal’s temperature, listening to the heart rate, and getting a blood sample.

  “Get the rest,” she told Natalie, still on the phone.

  Natalie motioned for me to come around to the other side of the dolphin. I took one end of the measuring tape while she took down the numbers. “It’s alright. You’re going to be alright,” she whispered to the dolphin as she moved around it.

  She scribbled a few notes, then poured another bucket of water over the dolphin. “They are at high risk out of the water. Exposure to the wind and sun can dry the skin and they can get overheated.”

  “Hyperthermia,” I said.

  “Right. Their skin absorbs heat, the blubber retains it, and the circulatory system that normally helps to dissipa
te heat can’t keep up. That’s why we need to continually pour the water over it. Especially near the—”

  “The flippers, dorsal fin, and fluke—the areas that are thin and highly vascularized,” I said, remembering what Dr. Parker had taught me in Norway about the killer whales, which are members of the dolphin family, so I figured I was on pretty stable ground.

  “Right,” she said with a smile. “But carefully.” The man arrived with another bucket of water and she gestured for me to take it. “Lower the bucket as close as possible when you pour. You don’t want to startle it. And careful at the blowhole. Pour water there only right after it’s taken a breath.”

  “Gotcha,” I said. I could do that. I tipped the bucket and carefully let the water gently cascade onto the towels as I moved from its head to the fluke.

  “Make sure no sand gets in the eyes or the blowhole.”

  “Okay.” I could do that, too.

  She sighed. “I hate this helpless feeling. The waiting.” She crossed her arms, anxious.

  I gave the bucket to the man to refill. “Are we waiting for blood results? Seems like—”

  “No. That would take too long. We do that for hematologic and plasma chemical analyses, for a long-term prognosis. But right now, we do a quick analysis to determine if the animal is healthy enough to be put back to sea, if we should try to transport it to the rehab facility at Atlantis on the main island, or—” she hesitated “—if we should euthanize it.”

  “Oh,” I said, looking at this beautiful creature, lying here, prone on the beach, not sure I was ready to hear the conclusion. “And?”

  “Oh, this one is doing okay. There are no obvious signs of shock or vascular collapse. It’s got a good chance.”

  I let out my breath, relieved. “So, what are we waiting for?”

  “The tide. It will help us get it back out to sea.” She pointed. “It’s too shallow right now.”

  The dolphin drew in another breath, shuddering with the effort. Natalie’s expression matched my feelings. Frustration. The sooner we could get the dolphin back into the water, the better. Waiting for the tide was going to be exasperating.

  Regardless, I had a job to do. My directive had been deliberately vague, something like “go see what’s happening, if anything, with the dolphins down there.” Apparently some high-level government agency had received some intel, but wanted my team—myself and three other agents—to approach the situation with fresh eyes. It wasn’t a typical assignment for an elite task force of federal agents. Regardless, we’d boarded the next plane to see what we could find out.