by Michael Cole
Damn it, I’m doing it again.
Napier looked even more tired than before. It was like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His tie was barely tied, and his suit looked rugged. If she had clicked on this video without knowing the pretext, she would’ve assumed he was on drugs.
“Thank you for being here today,” he began. “I’d like to extend my most humble apologies to the people I’ve hurt, most especially those whose tragedy I have exploited. As you probably already know, I’ve come here to admit to you all that there was no sea monster. My reasons for fabricating this story are my own, but I will say they were selfish, and I am deeply sorry. None of what I said was true, and falsely based on a real tragedy that I should have never acted on. I would also like to extend my humble apologies to the United States Coast Guard, who I’m aware has been under scrutiny since the story came out.” That was the only part that Forster felt was genuine. Everything else it seemed was based on a script. “You guys are great, and I thank you for your service to our country. To everyone else, I understand this caused a lot of confusion. For years now, we’ve been living in troubling times, and trust for our government has been shaky at best. I’m sorry to have exploited that, and for possibly adding to the tension. Now, as I close, I just want to reiterate; there was no hybrid experimentation that I’m aware of. The creature did not and does not exist. I admit to you all that this story is absolutely false.” He looked up from his notes. Forster heard the sound of the notepad hitting the podium, as if he was barely containing a rage within him. “That’s all I have for you. Thank you.” Reporters stood from their seats in unison, extending microphones out toward Napier. Questions from all over the room blended together in a chaotic mixture of noise from the audience. Napier, however, had no intention of being there any longer than he had to. Walking with a couple of other men in suits, he moved toward an exit and disappeared into a hallway. The video concluded.
As before, Forster found herself starting to analyze what she saw, only to wince from a splitting headache. With everything on her mind, she almost forgot she had suffered a concussion. She turned off the laptop and took her prescribed Ibuprofen. She looked at the time: 11:45.
“Oh shit,” she said. She had completely lost track of the time. She forced herself to forget about the videos and entered her bedroom. Hopefully, her busy mind would settle down and allow her to sleep.
CHAPTER
22
It didn’t. Forster dipped in and out of consciousness for hours. Even when she was asleep, her dreams were fixated on the footage or the shark. To make matters worse, only an hour or so before she was due to wake up did she finally fall into a deep sleep. Waking up was a nightmare.
Stumbling from the bedroom to the kitchen, Forster felt like she had downed four martinis in rapid succession. As she often did before getting to work, she stepped into the living room and switched to the local news network. She rarely paid attention to it, but the background noise often helped with the waking up process. The talking heads began speaking about the usual topics, from politics to current local events. Hardly listening, Forster downed some more Ibuprofen for her headache, along with a small protein shake. Still feeling as if she had risen from the grave, she made her way to the shower and undressed. Leaving her clothes in an unorganized pile, she turned on the hot water, which came out as ice cold. The icy shock helped a little bit to wake her up, but not nearly enough. She smothered her hair in shampoo, hearing the news anchor voices.
“…More on that at 6:30. Meanwhile, Felt’s Paradise is drawing much attention for a possible new discovery. Dan?” Another voice took over.
“Thanks, Marie. I’m standing here outside the aquarium, near the former Great White Exhibit.” Suddenly, Forster was wide awake. She snatched up a towel and wrapped it around herself as she dashed to the living room. Ignoring the shampoo dripping from her soaked hair, she watched the television, seeing her workplace on a live feed.
“What the hell…”
“…Mr. Felt has explained to us that there was no way this thing was responsible for the sinkings, that it was captured before the tragedy took place. He’ll be speaking further with us, so in the meantime, we’ll be waiting here. Marie, back to you.” The feed switched back to the news station.
“As of right now, Ben Whitaker, Morgan Vohagan, and Phillip Mile are still missing. Scott Willis is still in the hospital. Police have not yet given any details on his condition.”
Forster stood, baffled. She had missed part of the broadcast, but it was clear that Felt had announced the discovery of the new shark. She checked her phone, but there were no messages or missed calls. Whatever was happening, nobody had bothered to notify her. She hurried back into the bedroom and lined her work clothes on the bed. A drip of shampoo fell from her scalp and splattered onto her freshly clean shirt.
“Lovely,” she said. She stepped back into the shower to rinse, then hurried into her clothes and out the door.
********
By the time she arrived, there were a dozen news vans in the parking lot. Some were local, while others were ferried from Georgia. She slowly drove through the crowded lot, until she found her way to the employee parking. Even there, a couple of news vehicles had parked. She got out, and immediately flagged a passing maintenance worker. The man stopped as she ran to him.
“Hey, what is all this? What’s going on?” she asked.
“You know that shark you guys caught? Some kid got photos of it, and now they’ve made their way to the internet.” Forster looked up with a pained expression.
“Oh, shit,” she said.
“Oh, it gets better,” the worker said. “Some guy’s claiming it killed some of his friends.”
“Who? What guy?”
“Some fisherman. I don’t know if he saw the images, but he’s saying he was out on his fishing boat, and the thing sunk it. So, Felt invited all these reporters here for damage control.”
“That explains how everyone got here so quick,” she said. “When did this happen, the attack?”
“Last night, I think,” the worker said. “Cops found him washed ashore, so something happened. But then again, who knows. Maybe he’s trying to invoke a lawsuit from this place.”
“Last night? That’s impossible,” Forster said, more to herself than to the worker. “It was here. There’s no way it could’ve…”
“Hey! There she is!” a voice called out. A flood of reporters burst from the aquarium doors and rushed toward Forster. Microphones were extended toward her, followed by a bombardment of questions.
“Doctor, you made this discovery? How did you manage to bring this creature in?”
“Dr. Forster, where did this species come from?”
“Is it the largest species of shark?”
“Are you worried about environmentalists protesting its capture?”
“Do you believe this shark is a man-eater, Doctor?”
“What is the name of this species?”
“Doctor?
“Doctor?
“Doctor? Doctor? Doctor? Doctor? Doctor?”
It was like a feeding frenzy, and she was the meal. She shouted out random answers, mainly “I don’t know,” as she struggled to fend off the reporters. Standing on her tip toes, she could see Felt in the back of the crowd.
“Excuse me,” she said, and started making her way through the reporters. The first few were accommodating, but further into the crowd, other reporters stood in her way, trying to get their chance at asking a question. “Excuse me, I need to get through.” Further in, she had to forcefully shove people aside, until finally she reached Felt.
“Hey Julie,” he said. “I was going to…”
“What’s going on here?!” she yelled. Felt looked at her, flabbergasted that she was angry.
“I thought this is what you wanted,” he said. He pointed toward the reporters. “Look, they’re all interested in talking to you! You wanted to be a household name in science…”
“I told you to
wait…” she trailed off as she looked to the water. She realized the barriers had been removed, with a sign stating that the exhibit was available for viewership. She looked to the aquarium. A lazily built sign hung over the entrance.
Come and view the Lobster Shark; an incredible new species, found only here at Felt’s Paradise. She turned back toward Felt.
“You opened the exhibit?”
“It’s my business, Julie,” he said. “I can do whatever I want. Don’t forget, you work for me. Listen…” he took her by the shoulder and led her inside. The reporters started following them in. He held out a hand to stop them, while faking a nice business smile. “Please, wait out here for just a moment, everybody. We’ll be right with you, I promise.” He shut the door behind them, which latched shut. Luckily, the business hours had not yet begun, so he wouldn’t have to worry about visitors.
“Okay, listen, I’m sorry I didn’t keep you in the loop, but this thing happened suddenly. Pictures of the fish were leaked online and, holy crap, they spread like wildfire. Word of this thing was already out. I just had to take control of the situation,” he said. Forster rested her fists on her hips.
“Did you take them down to the viewing area?”
“Yeah, but only for a sec. We need to replace the glass,” he said.
“Replace the glass?”
“Yeah…apparently this thing tried attacking somebody through the panel…” his words slowed, as if he didn’t want to admit them. However, Forster’s eyes were almost hypnotic as she cynically stared at him. He heaved a sigh, “…and, when I took the reporters down there, it moved in like the devil. The glass is barely holding together.”
“You shut the steel barriers, right?” Forster said.
“Of course,” Felt said. “We just have to replace the glass.” By the way he spoke, it was like there wasn’t a problem in the world. This only upset Forster more.
“I told you, it’s possible we can stress the thing out,” she said. “It could be very dangerous having it here, but I agreed to do it as long as I had complete say on how to handle it. I told you that taking people down there might get it worked up. Why do you have me here if you’re not going to listen to me?”
“Hey,” Felt raised his voice slightly. “The business comes first. You want a paycheck, I need this place to run in order to get you that. Besides, it’s working!”
“What do you mean?”
“Just this morning, we’ve already had twelve new reservations!” He threw his fists out, in a victorious fashion. “People want to see this thing. There’ll be more coming in! Some are even last minute for this week! And we already got calls from some universities. Literally, this morning! These places are offering big bucks to let their researchers come over and examine this thing!”
“I thought that was supposed to be my job,” Forster said. Felt stood silent for a moment, remembering what he promised her when she agreed to capture the creature.
“Oh, well, you’re still credited with the discovery. I mean that’s the main thing you wanted.” Forster slowly exhaled, feeling as if she was venting steam. Not only was Felt belittling her, he didn’t even realize it. Felt looked to the glass doors and saw the reporters growing impatient. For him, it was timely. “Oh, well, we need to appease our crowd. Let’s go.”
“Wait,” she said. Felt stopped and looked at her again. “What’s this about somebody claiming this thing attacked them?”
“Just some guy who saw the pictures and figures he can cook up a story for a juicy lawsuit. Luckily, as I told these nice people here, the story doesn’t add up. You captured the thing early in the day, this guy claims he was attacked last night. Obviously, it couldn’t have been our shark. So, I took the advantage, since we already had these people here, to announce that we have a new exhibit. That’s why I need you to come here with me.” That uneasy feeling crept its way back down Forster’s spine. Something wasn’t adding up. The photos spread, but so quickly that this fisherman could concoct a story out of a real sinking? According to the news, two boats apparently did go down. At the very least, it was an odd coincidence.
“Okay, thanks,” she said. “I’ll let you get to it. I, uh, have a couple of things to take care of.” Every fiber in her being was desperate to research the matter. The first thing would be to call Nelson, who likely had to interrogate the fisherman. And him! She desired to speak with the fisherman and hear his description of what happened. She felt like a conspiracy theorist, but the sick feeling would not go away.
“Oh, I guess I should’ve explained further,” Felt said. “When I said ‘we need to appease our crowd’, I really meant you and me.” Forster glared at him.
“I’m not a public relations person…”
“Just answer some questions about the fish, as best you can,” he said. “Then allow them to observe you doing what you do to care for it. We need to show people we have this thing under control.”
“But I’m still figuring much of that out,” Forster said. Felt leaned in.
“Then do the best you can to BS it,” he said. He looked again to the crowd and waved at them to signal he was coming back out. Returning his eyes to Forster he said, “Now come on,” and led the way to the door.
The next several hours were long and tedious. In addition to learning about the creature and its needs and tendencies, she had to do it while answering what seemed like hundreds of questions from the reporters. Many of these questions were the same, just worded in a different way so each journalist could differentiate their article. After answering questions, Forster led them on a tour of the aquarium, taking a special tour of the recovery area for the dolphins. It was a stalling move, as Forster thought of ways to demonstrate how she would handle the shark. Clearly, the reporters weren’t interested in this, but it at least provided her with a dialogue to explain how they had the supplies to handle a variety of species.
Finally, she led them to the docks. The reporters gathered around the deck on both sides of the exhibit, looking down into the pen. The creature’s red color was impossible to miss in the clear filtered water. Looking down, without a glass barrier, was a genuine thrill for many of the journalists. While they snapped their photos, Forster climbed on to the hydraulic lift. Wearing a lab coat, she discreetly pulled out a syringe and injected a mild sedative into the large slab of beef. She made a point to make sure she wasn’t noticed, otherwise it would become apparent that the creature was not safe to be contained. Lifting the beef was difficult. It was over twice the size of the slabs that they fed the white.
Thank god I’m still in shape. With both boats out of service, she had no crane to lift the bait, and the workers seemed to be busy. She used her legs to lift, and finally she picked the heavy meat off the hydraulic table. To the best of her ability, she tossed it into the water, being careful not to lose her own balance. The bait splashed into the water, and bits of coagulated blood oozed from the splits in the meat. The creature detected it instantly and swung its body around. In a single swoop, it snatched the meat. The water thrashed as it twisted and turned, bumping into the walls. The reporters all exclaimed as the creature tore it apart. For them, it was entertaining. For Forster, it was haunting. Most sharks would either swallow it whole, or break it down into enough pieces to swallow individually. This creature tore at its food in a crazed frenzy, like its sole purpose was to kill rather than feed. The more she observed it, the less like an ordinary animal it seemed.
The desire to know more grew in her like a mad hunger. As the reporters were fixated on the pen, she took the moment to pull out her phone. She made a call to Nelson, hoping he’d have some insight for her. The line rang several times before going to voicemail. She hung up and grew increasingly worried. Usually he answered. Her mind instantly pondered the possibilities. Was it something to do with the sinkings? Was there more to the story? Would he believe her if she told him she suspected this shark’s existence is related to the Mako’s Center incident?
Then she remem
bered their last encounter. The guilt she was trying to steer her mind from had instantly returned. She then wondered if Nelson was avoiding her calls. Either way, she now wanted to know the injured officer’s condition.
It was just as well that Nelson didn’t answer. The reporters started turning their attention toward her again. Forster resumed the tedious task of answering questions and making demonstrations.
Finally, after several hours, the reporters and journalists had their fill. She waited for them to clear out before she left. After a second failed call, she had officially decided to visit the Chief. She did her normal activities, such as tending to the other creatures, until finally all the vans were gone. She kept a casual appearance while walking to the lot, making sure she wasn’t seen by Felt. She successfully arrived at her vehicle and left for the police station.
CHAPTER
23
In life, there came unexpected moments that could turn one’s world upside down in the blink of an eye. It could begin with a normal routine day, which would go as smooth as usual. Then out of the blue, something happened that changes everything. A typical store manager woke up one morning, got dressed, filled his coffee mug, and left for work. Two miles from his store, an elderly man crossed the street, unable to hear the approaching truck. Five seconds later he was killed on impact. Though he was not directly at fault, the manager’s world was forever changed.
A game show host was in the middle of filming a session of Know-it-Alls, a ripoff of Jeopardy. It had started out to be a good day. The host had achieved a high paying job, for a program that was slowly gaining in popularity, and he was on the road to achieving celebrity status. Then his life turned upside down as federal agents marched into the studio, aided by local police, seeking the host for questioning. They informed him that his brother had committed a shooting, which resulted in numerous deaths, including that of a police officer, and they wanted to speak to him for questioning.
