Galapagos Below

by D. J. Goodman

  “Welcome to the Galápagos,” Ernesto said.

  “This, uh, it’s kind of not what I expected,” Maria said. Her vision of the islands had come from her old copies of The Voyage of the Beagle and On the Origin of Species, long ago read to unrecognizable tatters, and several books of wildlife photography that had captured the Galápagos’ pristine nature. Right now, though, all she could see was litter in the streets and an odd, schizophrenic meeting of an old world with a pre-fab new one. Briefly, she almost allowed herself to get excited at the sight of a land iguana basking on the nearby asphalt, but within seconds, it was chased away by a feral cat.

  “Yes, well, you could say that the islands are in a transitionary period.”

  “Most of this wasn’t here when I first visited twenty years ago,” Kevin said.

  “I would have only been a child, but since I didn’t live here yet, I can’t say whether you are right or wrong,” Ernesto said. “Please, let us go to the hotel. That is where Mr. Schmidt is staying. I can answer questions while we wait for him.”

  This, Maria supposed, was where TEC would edit some stock footage of the islands into the episode while they summarized Ernesto’s stories in a more sterilized fashion. Which was unfortunate, because as he talked, Maria couldn’t help but feel his passion for this, his adopted home. In the course of only a few minutes, he gave them all a more detailed history of the Galápagos than Kevin and Maria had told on the Cameron, starting even before Darwin with the occasional explorer or pirate happening on the islands yet not finding much of use on many of them. Only a few, including the largest island, Isla Isabela, and the one they were currently on, Isla Santa Cruz, had even had sources of water usable by humans. After Darwin had made his journey, there had been others, including captains who’d introduced goats and other invasive species, hoping they would provide food next time ships came through here, but for the most part, the Galápagos Islands had remained fairly remote. Villages popped up, and with them came the fishing industry. And with industry, that was where people seemed to agree that the islands began to change.

  “But aren’t most of the waters around the islands marine protected zones?” Maria asked him as they sat at a table in a restaurant on the bottom floor of the hotel. The television crew jockeyed for position and scrambled to set things up for their interview with Mr. Schmidt. Ernesto barely even seemed to notice they were there.

  “Yes, they are,” Ernesto said.

  “Then shouldn’t there actually not be any commercial fishing in those areas?”

  “There is a difference between what should be true and what actually is,” Ernesto said. “It would take a long time for me to go into all the various political arguments and factions running rampant through the islands. To be brief, I’ll just say that there are people whose entire livelihood is based on fishing, and they don’t take kindly to others saying they can’t do it. Sometimes, they get around this legally. Sometimes, corrupt officials make illegal things legal. And other times people just ignore the law completely.”

  “I told you this wasn’t going to be a pristine paradise,” Kevin said to Maria with a sigh.

  Monica chimed in. “But this is the Galápagos. It’s a protected World Heritage Site. Home to unique species that are critically endangered and can’t be found anywhere else in the world. Doesn’t that mean anything to them?”

  “Absolutely. To some of us,” Ernesto said. “That’s part of the reason I got into the tourist trade. I love it here. I respect it. I want to share that. And I’m not alone. There’s a lot of people like me. But there’s also a lot of people who see their livelihoods threatened by regulations they don’t see the point of. Especially when we’ve got big companies with giant cruise ships coming in and doing whatever they want because they can afford to pay off the right officials. When people see enough of that, they wonder why they have to obey when foreigners don’t.”

  Maria thought about this while they waited. She could tell that the plain and simple idea of people illegally fishing or hunting endangered species set Kevin’s blood to boil. It angered her, as well. But she wondered what it had to be like, living on a tiny set of islands that weren’t designed to support humans, watching while the way of life you’d always known was gobbled up by forces around you. As much as she always wanted to put nature first, she could also understand the simple desire to rebel.

  Bernard Schmidt came down a few minutes later and, seeing their group at the table, made a beeline for them. Merchant cut him off, though, and said something to him in a low voice that Maria couldn’t hear. Although, judging from the perplexed look on his face, she had a guess that Merchant was asking him for a personal “confessional” video before he talked to everyone. She and a camerawoman disappeared with him for about fifteen minutes.

  “Ernesto?” Maria asked. “Before we hear Mr. Schmidt’s account of what happened, why don’t you tell us what you can.”

  “I would, but there isn’t much. Debbie Schmidt was being difficult. She wandered from the path, which I should point out is illegal. When I convinced her to come back and join us, I turned my back for no more than a few seconds. There was a huge splash that knocked me down, and when I got up and turned around, she was gone. Uh, at least most of her was.”

  “Has there ever been this kind of incident on Isla Niña before?” Kevin asked.

  “No, but something you must understand is that up until recently the majority of people weren’t even allowed on Isla Niña.”

  “Why not?” Maria asked.

  “All corrupt forces aside, most people do want to do their best in keeping the islands as pristine as is possible in a modern age. That means that, although the primary industry in the Galápagos is tourism now, that tourism is strictly limited. The archipelago consists of fourteen main islands and a number of smaller islets…”

  “Wait, I could have sworn there were only thirteen,” Maria said.

  “Maybe is some alternate reality,” Ernesto said. “But here in our real world there are fourteen. Out of all the locations in the archipelago, though, only a small number are open to tourists. The rest are only allowed to have people on them by special permit, usually for scientific or other similar reasons. Up until recently, Isla Niña was one of those sites. When the park opened it up to tourists, only a very small number of permits for it were issued. I was actually quite surprised I got one. I didn’t think I had nearly enough money, but I was told that I had qualified for a grant thanks to how long I’ve been doing this.” He sighed. “Now I don’t know what will happen. I will very likely lose my permit for Isla Niña, but it might also lead to the park service closing off the island altogether again. There are many people who are not happy about that possibility. Whatever happened out there, Mr. Schmidt and I are not the only ones who want it resolved.”

  Finally, Schmidt joined them at their table. Perhaps understandably, he struck Maria as a very confused man. He would often trail off, forcing Maria or one of the others to gently coax him back to the topic at hand. Despite Merchant’s assurances that he had agreed for them to be here, Schmidt didn’t seem to understand who they were or why they were talking to him. Kevin acted as the sensitive one, getting him to talk about his wife and what she had been like before finally getting him to give his account of her disappearance.

  “For just that one moment, she almost seemed to be enjoying herself,” Schmidt said. “It was a side of her I so seldom saw anymore. And it was all because of crabs. Seriously, crabs. Out of all the things on the island, that’s what she found beautiful.”

  “Mr. Schmidt, I know it’s hard, but Mr. Padilla already gave us a clear overview of everything that happened up to the moment where he turned to go back to the trail,” Kevin said. “We need to know what you saw next. Everything. Even small details might be important.”

  Bernie Schmidt paused for a long time before simply saying. “She was just gone.”

  “But how?”

  “Something… look, I didn’t see anythin
g, okay? I thought I had, but I didn’t.”

  “I think you did,” Maria said.

  “Anything I thought I saw didn’t make sense, so it can’t be right.”

  “Trust me, we have some experience with things that shouldn’t make sense,” Maria said. To make her point, she rapped on her prosthetic leg. “Whatever you think you saw, we’ll give it a fair shake.”

  “Anything?” Schmidt asked. “Even if I say it was a sea monster?”

  “Is that what you say it was?”

  “I don’t know. The thing is, it moved fast. Too fast for me to see. All I can say is that it was long. And big. And had a dark color. But the when it came up, there was so much water with it that I couldn’t get anything more than an impression.”

  “And that impression was?” Maria asked.

  “The Loch Ness Monster.”

  Maria and Kevin exchanged a confused glance.

  “See? I told you that you wouldn’t believe me,” Schmidt said. “It’s not like I actually think the Loch Ness Monster came all the way to the Galápagos and ate… uh, took my wife. But that’s just the image that came to me in the half a second I kind-of sort-of saw it. Then there was a sound, like… like a wet snap. And she was gone, and it, whatever it was, was gone. And all that remained was…”

  He gestured at the floor, as though something was lying there in front of him and he couldn’t possibly find the words to describe it.

  “Seriously, that’s all I have,” Schmidt asked. “Can I go now? I’m still trying to work through all the, um, arrangements.”

  “Yes, of course,” Kevin said. “Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Schmidt.”

  Schmidt disappeared back up to his room, allowing the rest of the crew to sit around the table and discuss the case. Gutierrez and Monica had elected to stay back at the Cameron and prep for their trip to Isla Niña, while Simon and Cindy had followed them. Both of them had stayed quiet while Schmidt talked, but as soon as he was gone, they became animated.

  “Okay, so the first thing we need to do is figure out what kind of genre we’re in this time,” Simon said.

  “Oh dear lord, not this again,” Cindy said with a roll of her eyes.

  “Excuse me?” Ernesto asked. “I’m not sure I understood.”

  “That’s okay,” Kevin said. “It’s best if you don’t even try.”

  “Are you two still going on about this?” Maria asked. “I thought you got it out of your systems at El Bajo.”

  “Are you kidding?” Simon asked. “The way things ended at El Bajo only made me positive that I was right all along.”

  “Please, help me understand,” Ernesto said.

  “My idiot brother has gotten it into his head that we’re all fictional characters,” Cindy said.

  “Now, I’ve never actually said that. I’ve just implied that maybe we’re not real.”

  Cindy smacked him upside the back of the head.

  “Ow, hey! What was that for?”

  “That was for saying something stupid. Also, it was a preemptive slap for all the stupid things you’re going to say during the whole trip.”

  “Can we focus for now?” Maria asked. “There’ll be time enough for the cameras to catch your antics on our way to Isla Niña.”

  “So what do you make of what he said?” Ernesto asked, pointedly ignoring Cindy and Simon, instead directing his question at Maria and Kevin.

  “Um, I hate to be the one to ask this,” Kevin said, “but where are you keeping the, uh, remains that were found?”

  “They’re at the police station. I don’t know if I can get you in to see them, though, if that’s what you want. A dead woman is potentially bad for tourism. The authorities have made it clear that they’re going to do everything by the book to make sure no American media characterizes them as bumbling buffoons.” He looked at Merchant. “Not that you would do that, of course.”

  “No, of course not,” Merchant said. It was difficult to tell if she meant that.

  “So we won’t be able to get in to see any physical evidence,” Kevin said. “I assume that only leaves looking at the actual scene on the island.”

  “To the best of my knowledge, no one has been back since we left,” Ernesto said. “Even without it being currently off limits again, Isla Niña is not a very popular destination. It’s mostly without tree cover and only has a few species such as sea lions, marine iguanas, and a number of birds. The people who are most eager to visit are those who know more about what the nature of Galápagos means, not the ones just looking to take selfies with tortoises.”

  “And you’ll come with us?” Maria asked him.

  “Of course. Mrs. Schmidt was hardly, uh, a likeable client, but she was a client nonetheless. Whether this all affects my position as a tour guide or not, I want to get to the bottom of her death, if for no other reason than to give Mr. Schmidt some peace.”

  “We should get moving then,” Maria said. “I’m assuming it will take a little bit to get to Isla Niña, and we don’t want to waste the daylight.”

  7

  “Maria, are you okay?” Kevin asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re not supposed to be that shade of green.”

  “Maybe I want to be this shade. You know, just to be different.”

  “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

  Maria would have told him if she could, but that would have required her to be able to pinpoint the problem herself. She was standing at the railing near the back of the Cameron as it sped north from Isla Santa Cruz, eventually stopping northeast of Isla Santiago, although still well south of Isla Marchena and Isla Genovesa. They had maybe an hour left before they got there. And Maria was experiencing something she thought she’d already gotten out of her system: she was seasick.

  “Do you need me to hold your hair back?” Kevin asked. Maria smiled despite the queasy flip-flops of her stomach. Love was sticking by your partner, but true love was still holding them close while they vomited all over you.

  “No, I think I’m…” The Cameron hit a swell, of which there had been quite a few thanks to the choppy waters characteristic of this season in the Galapagos, causing her stomach to lurch. She leaned over, holding the railing for dear life while she waited for what little food she’d eaten today to come back up. After several seconds where nothing happened, she stood straight again.

  This is crazy, she thought. Sea-sickness had never previously been any problem at all for her. It kind of put a damper on the entire concept of marine biology when one couldn’t control their own gut, although Maria had had a number of professors who were prone to it but did field work anyway. Why is this happening to me, though?

  It had to be psychological. That was the only possibility. Maybe this was some byproduct of the episodes she’d had earlier on the way from the mainland. Or, perhaps, it was that she no longer had her sea legs, both figuratively and literally. She’d been off the waters for too long. She might have been back, but she was only barely able to walk for extended periods of time. Her sense of balance was off even when the floor wasn’t shifting and rocking beneath her.

  There’s a hole, there’s a hole, there’s a hole at the bottom of the sea.

  She didn’t have to go any further than the first verse before she started to feel better. “I think I’ll be okay now,” she said. “Please tell me the cameras didn’t catch any of that. It would be embarrassing for the whole world to see the Sea Avenger looking like she’s going to barf.”

  Kevin chuckled. “You’re safe. Last I saw, pretty much all the camera people were making a beeline for the Gutsdorfs.”

  “Oh, this ought to be entertaining,” Maria said. Taking Kevin’s hand for the extra balance, she went into the bridge, where Gutierrez was making decidedly grumpy noises about the number of people crowding into his space. Charlene and her camera must have gone elsewhere, but Gary and the third camera person, an African-American woman named Lucy, had picked out strategic positions in th
e cabin and seemed quite happy with the almost vaudevillian performance of Simon and Cindy. Merchant stood just out of camera view, asking questions.

  “So what was that you were saying earlier?” Merchant asked Simon.

  “What, about genre? We can’t figure out what we’ll need to do at Isla Niña without knowing what genre our story is in this time.”

  “Please stop encouraging him,” Cindy sighed.

  “Look, see, here’s the way I figure it,” Simon said. “During the last adventure we were on, we faced a giant shark. Now, we never did figure out for certain if we were in some made-for-SyFy movie or if we were in a bad pulp novel…”

  “How about neither, you schmuck.”

  “But it must have had some kind of success, right? Because here we are again. If we go with the idea that we’re in a movie, then obviously we’re about to face more giant sharks.”

  “What do you mean, obviously?” Merchant asks.

  “The kind of people who watch that stuff aren’t very tolerant of innovation, are they? They just want more of the same. But if we go to the idea that this is a pulp novel, then maybe there are more options.”

  “Simon, there’s no way we’re going to face a second ridiculously huge sea creature, despite everything that Mr. Schmidt said,” Kevin said. “Even just the one was unlikely.”

  “Exactly! Which is why we have to be in a novel! Because our writer is a talentless hack that can’t come up with anything better! But I bet you that he…”

  “I told you before, it has to be a she,” Cindy said.

  “You said you don’t believe we’re in fiction,” Simon responded.

  “That’s right, I did. But on the ridiculously off chance that we are, I refuse to have been created by a man.”

  “Uh, that’s not how it works, sis. You can’t just change a man into a woman because you feel like it. Gender doesn’t work that way.”