by Michael Cole
Forster slapped her hands against her sides.
“What do you want from me?” she said. “I get your life has gotten more miserable on this island, like everyone else apparently. You think I’m having a blast? I can’t get out of my house without getting in some sort of trouble. I can’t stand my job right now, and I definitely hate being here. But I can’t leave, not without getting myself a welfare plan. I’m stuck. What can I say?”
“I just want you to take care of yourself,” he said. “I’m not convinced you’re just here to get away from work and home.” Forster shook her head, acting confused.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at…”
“You’ve told me about your dad, and I know of the ups and downs in your life,” Nelson said. “I can put two-and-two together. You could’ve turned your phone off at home. I think I know what your idea was, coming here.” Forster took a big step back. Another angry grimace creased every corner of her face. How dare he even consider that she would try and drink her problems away. Whether it was the truth was irrelevant.
“You know what…get a life…Joe,” she said. She turned and marched to her vehicle with large strides. Nelson didn’t bother following her. His concern grew. When reviewing the footage, he was able to watch her for several minutes until the brawl started. She was by no means an alcoholic, but he knew how these things often began. After all, he’d been there himself. And he had no doubt Forster was miserable and depressed enough. Her tires screeched as she sped out of the parking lot, and her rearview lights faded from view as she drove down the road.
Finally, he turned back and walked toward the ambulance to have his talk with Jeffrey.
CHAPTER
10
Security Officer Patrice completed his seventeenth tour of the park and aquarium. The front main entrance was his start and end point. He put his hand to his mouth to shield a yawn, then felt foolish for displaying good manners with nobody around. There were only two other employees who regularly worked during the night: a building maintenance worker and a custodian.
Patrice checked his watch. 4:13 a.m. Under three hours until shift change.
Working the midnight shift was about nothing but repetition. When he first started working at Felt’s Paradise, a single tour around the facility took over fifty minutes. It helped with making the time go by. However, learning the area took a little extra time. Four months after his hire, it now only took him thirty minutes. Now the shift was a drag.
He eyeballed the front doors to the aquarium. Another coffee was in order. It served two purposes; keeping him awake, and to kill more time. In addition, the employee lounge had computers with internet. Since his iPhone couldn’t connect, it was an additional incentive.
Patrice removed his key from his belt loop and let himself through the front entrance. He took a left turn to the nearest stairwell, and hurried upstairs to the employee lounge.
“Alright, he’s inside!” Ben said, lowering his binoculars from his eyes.
“Shhhh!” Scott swiftly turned toward him, rocking the twelve-foot johnboat. “Not so loud,” he said in a whisper. Hidden in the dark, they had waited in the small boat for two hours, waiting for a proper opportunity to sneak ashore. Rowing the boat from around the peak of the East Peninsula took almost another hour. It was the only available alternative to the noisy engine of Scott’s fishing boat.
“His last two breaks inside the building were roughly thirty minutes,” Ben said. They had watched the guard make his rounds, timing each one out as well as the occasional pass from any other crew.
“Hopefully that’s as long as he takes this time,” Scott said. He took a breath. Hopefully they would time their sabotage just right. Dressed in black sweatpants and long john shirts, they looked as if they were trying to dress as ninjas. Completing the image, they pulled black sock masks over their faces, knowing they would likely be caught in the security feed. Scott was aware of their pathetic appearance, but his eye was on the prize: releasing that great white and subsequently catching it. “Alright, bring us in. And keep it quiet.”
Ben tapped the oars into the water and pushed them toward the deck. The dim walkway lights cast a small reflection on the metal bow. Pulling up near the deck, they wrapped a line around one of the posts. Ben was the first to climb out, causing the boat to rock back and forth.
“SHHH!” Scott hissed again. Ben whipped back toward him.
“Will you knock it off?! Your ‘shush’ is louder than anything I’m doing,” he hissed back. It wasn’t often Ben would talk back to Scott. When it did happen, it effectively silenced the latter, despite being the employer. Scott climbed onto the deck. Ben took a step forward, and then stopped nervously. Normally, the slight creaking noise from the boards would hardly be noticeable. However, in the dead of night…and in the midst of a crime…it might as well have been an air raid alarm. Ben looked, keeping an eye out for any employees. Losing his patience, Scott nudged him along.
“Come on, go,” he said. Ben took each step, barely separating his foot from the deck until they were on the cement. They looked out into the pool, wondering if they could see the shark. The dark kept it out of view, which meant they would be unable to tell whether it exited the pool once they’d opened it. Scott anticipated this, and had brought along some bloody bits of chum to help coax it out once they got the doors open.
That, however, was the initial challenge. The doors, as well as the entire enclosure, were made of solid metal over eighteen inches thick. There was no way they were going to break through them, which immediately voided their backup plan. This left their initial plan of using the control panel. The panel was located just inside the railing, looking like a high-tech podium. Ben, who was the savvier of the two when it came to technology, walked up to it.
“Suckers,” he said. “Of course, they would conveniently have this thing right next to the pool.”
“Well, it’s supposed to be a rehabilitation tank, designed for whales. That was the original intent when they got this shark,” Scott said. “At least, that’s what I heard from someone. I guess animal rights nutcases don’t usually try to break into these kinds of centers.”
Scott moved the plastic cover, designed like that of an outside grill to protect it from water splashes, and observed the control design. It was similar with a computer keyboard, with a small screen on top which immediately read Loading…
The time it took for the system to load seemed like forever. Ben nervously looked around again. So far, nobody was nearby. Every so often, he’d jump at a slight noise, only to discover it was a couple of seagulls hopping about near the drop-off. Finally, the system indicated it was ready. Ben examined the buttons again. He brushed his finger over several different commands; filtration cleansing; circulation flow; elevate floor level; Water Pump OFF/ON. Finally, he located a button that simply read door. He pressed it, and the screen listed various commands for the door. He tapped the top left button on the touch screen.
Please scan ID card.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Ben cursed. Scott stepped over to him.
“What? It won’t let you open it?” he asked.
“No,” Ben said. He sighed heavily. “It needs an ID card in order to open it.” He pointed at a black card swipe located on the side of the panel. A small red light blinked, indicative of its demand. “I don’t know what else to do…” he stopped and thought for a moment. A malicious idea came to mind…one that could get them into deeper trouble than what they possibly had signed up for. He faced Scott to express his idea. However, he recognized the look in his boss’ eye.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Scott asked. Ben nodded.
“You sure you want us to do this? If this goes south, this could land us in real deep…”
“This fella I know is willing to pay big bucks for this fish,” Scott said, with heavy emphasis on the word big. It was a lie, as he had never spoken to his associate on the matter. In fact, Scott had no clue of the delicacy of g
reat whites, but figured they had to be a top dollar menu item. At this moment, already in the act of committing a burglary of sorts, he deliberately allowed the wishful thinking to take over. “So yeah, I’m damn sure. How much longer until that guy should be coming out?”
Ben looked at his watch, “Based on our guess, probably fifteen minutes.” He looked around for anything to use as an instrument. His eyes went to the boat oars. “Ah-ha!”
********
Officer Patrice downed his second coffee for the break; fifth overall for the night. He turned his eyes off his eBay account and looked at his watch. 4:42.
“Oh, shit,” he said to himself, realizing he once again let time get away from him. He grabbed his paper log and jotted down that he was beginning his next tour. After grabbing his jacket, he rushed downstairs and came to those double doors. He pushed one open and stepped outside.
Immediately he saw a man, dressed completely in black, standing up ahead to his one o’clock. Patrice froze for a brief moment as he absorbed the sight of the masked individual.
“Hold it right there,” he said, pointing a finger at the intruder. He reached for the mobile phone attached to his duty belt. Just then, another image came to view. A momentary flash of wooden brown, oval in shape, crowded his vision. He barely felt the oar slam into his face, as he was instantly knocked into unconsciousness.
Ben stood over the downed guard and raised the oar over his head, as if posing to a stadium audience.
“Oh! It is out of here!” he exclaimed.
“Dude, knock it off!” Scott scolded him again. Ben froze, realizing how audible he was. “Get his tag,” Scott ordered. Ben rolled the guard onto his back and tore the tag from the shirt pocket. He removed it from the plastic cover and slid it through the swipe on the control unit. The tiny red light turned to green.
“Yes,” Ben said to himself, throwing his arms victoriously in the air again. Even Scott allowed himself to laugh a bit. They could hear a few mechanical sounds as the gears started to push the door open. Then a large yellow light flashed on both far corners of the pool, joined by a loud beeping sound like that of a back-up beeper. The mechanical gears grew louder as well, and the doors separated. Scott and Ben quickly stopped their celebration, and simultaneously looked at each other. Each was as alert as the other. Without saying a word, they hurried to their boat before somebody would hear the device.
It didn’t take long. The building maintenance person rushed from the park area. The brief sprint already had the overweight worker out of breath, but it got worse once he came around the corner and saw Patrice laying on the ground.
“Oh Christ!” he yelled and rushed to the guard’s aid. Though bleeding from his mouth and nose, Patrice was breathing fine. He began moving his arm as he slowly stirred awake. The maintenance worker had just knelt by him when he realized what the flashing yellow light meant on the pool. The doors were all the way open at this point. “Oh shit! Oh, no!” He ran to the panel. “No! No! No! No! No!” One was said with each step. He ran to the panel and instantly started tapping the button to close the door. “Come on, come on!” He tapped the button relentlessly, then realized the red flashes on the swipe. He tore his tag off of his shirt and ran it through the device. The buttons turned to green, and the doors slowly started to close.
It was then he realized he was too late. The flickering yellow lights cast a shine on the huge dorsal fin as the fish made its way out into the bay. The worker ran to the dock, trying to get a better visual of the shark. As he looked further out, he noticed the slight reflection of something in the water. He realized he was looking at the stern of a small metal boat. He drew his flashlight and pointed it out. It was dim, but he could just see the two men in the boat, dressed in black, looking back at him.
“Hey!” the worker called out. There was the sound of a motor starting up, followed by the droning sound of the propellers going into gear. Soon the boat and its occupants were out of view.
He returned the light to the water. He barely caught a tiny splash from the shark’s tail as it traveled out. Digging into his pockets, the worker pulled out a phone and hurriedly dialed some numbers. He hit send, cursing repeatedly under his breath as he waited.
“Come on, come on! Pick up! Pick up!”
CHAPTER
11
Repeated vibrations from the iPhone drummed against the wooden dresser. Forster lifted her face from her pillow and blindly reached for it. Through her blurred vision, she read Felt’s name on the caller ID. The call ended just as she went to answer it.
“Shit!” she said. A box appeared on her screen, showing four missed calls, all by Felt. She worried that she overslept until she read the time. 6:08 a.m., only seven minutes from the time on her alarm clock. The phone started ringing again.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hey, what took you so long to answer your phone?!” Felt said.
“Well, sorry, it was on vibrate and…”
“Never mind,” Felt interrupted her. There was urgency to his voice. “Not important. I need you to come here right away!” Forster fell back into the bed, already feeling frustrated.
“Oh, don’t tell me you picked up another damn dolphin,” she said.
“The shark escaped!” Felt said. Forster sat up, suddenly feeling completely awake and alert.
“What?”
“It escaped! It’s gone!” At this point, he was practically in hysterics. “Some guys came in through the bay and opened the pool!” Forster stood up and immediately started getting herself ready to leave. She snatched up some clothes from the dresser and threw them on the bed, then rushed to the sink and slapped some cold water to her face, all while still on the phone.
“Alright, relax,” she started to speak. Felt cut her off almost immediately.
“Relax?! How can I relax? If that thing injures somebody, we’re certainly going to be held liable.”
“Re-lax!” she emphasized each syllable. “First of all, shark attacks on humans don’t happen as frequently as you might believe.”
“Oh…well uh,” Felt fumbled for something to say. The urgency in his voice was still there. Forster knew what the real concern was; Felt believed that the great white had become the main attraction in the resort, and was worried about increased drop in revenue.
“Listen,” Forster said. “First, get a grip. Second, is the tracking device still functioning?” There were several moments of silence.
“Tracking device…uh,” he mumbled, clearly having no clue of what she was talking about. Felt was strictly a businessman, good with numbers. But when it came to the actual inside work, he was clueless.
“The shark had a tracking tag installed when we first acquired it,” Forster said.
“It does?” his voice suddenly contained slight composure.
“I’ll get on the research computer on the Neptune, and I can track it. Let me get my act together and I’ll be right over.”
“Hurry up,” Felt said, and he immediately hung up. Forster tossed the phone onto her bed and went back to the sink. She dipped her hands into the water. Her knuckles on her left hands, scraped from where they chipped two front teeth, stung from the water’s touch. It was a fresh reminder of last night’s encounter, which itself was a reminder of her constant misery from which there seemed no escape.
She didn’t waste time thinking about it, nor did she waste time showering. She tore her clothes off and changed into some white Softshell pants and a black hoodie. Though it was likely going to be another hot summer day, she knew she would be out on the water for most of it.
After grabbing some on-the-go items, she hurried out the door.
I’ve been awake for ten minutes, and already I’m in for a shitty day.
********
The sun had fully peaked as Forster arrived. Cars flooded the lot as employees rapidly arrived to start the day. Tourists were making their way about the resort. The rides were just starting to open up, and the main doors to the
aquarium should have been unlocked by now. This early in the morning, the majority of tourists normally would dine at the restaurants or relax at the pools. However, it would only be a matter of time before they made their way to the aquarium, and subsequently the Great White Exhibit. Forster could only imagine the public reaction to the news of the shark’s escape. Undoubtedly, it was something on her employer’s mind.
She stepped out of her car to find two police units nearby. When she arrived to the Great White Exhibit, she immediately noticed the barriers that had been put in place. A large sign read; Great White Exhibit temporarily closed for Maintenance. Clearly, Felt didn’t want it made public that the shark was gone. Forster knew that lie wouldn’t last long.
The first face she saw was Chief Nelson. He stood by the barriers and immediately saw her, as if he was waiting specifically for her. He looked as tired and irritable as she was. Most likely, he had slept just as well, and was probably awoken under the same circumstances. He held two coffees, one of which he sipped out of. As she approached, he extended the other out to her.
“Checking up on me now, are you?” Forster remarked. The stone-like expression on Nelson’s face conveyed no sense of humor.
“Give me a break,” Nelson said. “I’m obviously here for the…”
“Relax, Chief. I’m just busting your chops,” Forster said. She took the coffee. “Thanks.”
“No, problem,” he said. “And, uh, sorry.” He suddenly felt embarrassed. “Had to get here so fast I didn’t have time to make a pot. Figured you had the same predicament. Cream and sugar, right?”
“You’ve gotten to know me well,” she said. She took a sip. Oh, very well! Judging by the sweetness, it was loaded with extra sugar. Exactly what she needed. She started walking toward the dock, and Nelson followed. “So, did the security feed show anything?”
