Surrounded by Sharks

by Michael Northrop

  “I thought it was Mary’s?” said Tam, pointing to a sign that read BAIT ’N SWITCH in slightly fresher paint.

  “Mary is the owner,” said Fulgham.

  Brando slipped by them, pulled open a battered screen door, and stepped inside.

  “Hold on there, dude,” he heard.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder, but he couldn’t see who it belonged to. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and door, but apart from that, the only light came from a few signs glowing behind the bar. A man’s face emerged from the shadows by the door. What Brando thought at first was a lingering shadow near the man’s left ear turned out to be a large tattoo.

  “It’s okay, Bacon, he’s here on official business,” said the deputy, stepping into the doorway.

  Bacon? thought Brando. Did I hear that right? He had, and Bacon straightened up on his stool when he saw the deputy. He pushed a meaty hand through his greasy hair.

  “Oh, hey, Deputy,” said Bacon. “That’s cool. Come on in.”

  “Glad to see you carding this time. Where’s the Captain?”

  Bacon let out a raspy laugh. “Gonna have to be more specific. This place is full of ’em.”

  “Zeke — never mind, I see him.”

  Brando did, too. He was sitting at a small table with the scattered remains of a BLT spread out in front of him. It was the hat that gave him away.

  Zeke looked up from his ruined sandwich at the flock of newcomers headed his way. Brando saw his eyes flick across the whole group and then settle on Deputy Fulgham.

  “Oh, boy, what’d I do now?” said Zeke. “If this is about last night, I’ll tell you right now I don’t remember it too clearly.”

  Brando was pretty sure he was joking.

  “Nah, you’re not in trouble, Zeke,” said the deputy. “At least no more than usual. Wouldn’t kill you to answer your phone, though.”

  “Well, that would be hard, considering there are about thirty feet of seawater over top of it at the moment.”

  “You drop it?”

  “Something like that. How can I help you? Want the rest of my sandwich?”

  “Just want to ask you a few questions about this morning.”

  “Have a seat,” said Zeke. He looked around at the others. “You’ll have to pull over an extra chair or two.”

  Tam and Pamela turned to look for empty chairs, but the deputy stopped them. “Why don’t you all get some lunch?” he said. “I’ll just talk to the captain by myself, if that’s okay.”

  “I’m not hungry,” said Pamela.

  “Well, get the kid some fries, anyway. They make some mean curly fries here.”

  “Sure,” said Tam, taking the hint. He leaned in and whispered something to Pamela. Brando couldn’t hear what it was, but it worked.

  “We’ll be right over here,” she said, pointing to a little square table nearby.

  Fulgham nodded. “You can just order up at the bar.”

  “I’ll save our seats,” said Brando. He pulled out the chair closest to the other table and didn’t knock himself out pushing it in.

  The deputy was probably aware of what he was doing, but he didn’t seem to care if Brando overheard. “Thought I’d spare you the full inquisition,” he said to Zeke.

  “I appreciate it. What’s this about?”

  “Well, that family there is one kid short right now. Thirteen-year-old boy, haven’t seen him since last night.”

  Brando’s back was to the deputy. He heard the sound of paper crinkling.

  “Here’s a picture. You see him this morning, maybe on the first or second boat?”

  “Oh, jeez,” said Zeke. “That’s a tough one.”

  “Yeah, why’s that?”

  “Sundays are busy this time of year. Get a lot of checkouts, people who want to be home by Monday.”

  “Even that early?”

  “Yeah, they got flights to catch, out of Miami and everywhere else. Busy on the way over, too. People spend the first night here and then head out to Aszure first thing. Adds up to a lot of people, lot of faces, on that little dock.”

  “So you don’t remember him?”

  “Lemme look again…. No, I don’t think … Definitely not on the second boat. I’m a little fuzzier on the first. It was pretty early. Why don’t you ask Mar—”

  Brando missed the rest of the sentence. His parents had just shown up with a paper cone full of fries. He’d been leaning way back in his chair, and now the front legs clattered back to the ground. The talking behind him stopped.

  “Hey,” called the deputy. “Mind your own business over there.”

  Busted, thought Brando. But his parents barely said a word as they sat down, and the deputy didn’t lower his voice. The family chewed silently on reheated curly fries and continued to eavesdrop.

  “But come on,” said Fulgham. “He’s a teenage boy. You must keep an eye on ’em. I know I do.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know. This kid looks young.”

  “Yeah, his face does, but …” The deputy didn’t even need to turn around to address the family. “Davey small for his age?”

  There was no response.

  “Come on, I know you’re listening. The fries aren’t that good.”

  “Yes, he’s not that much bigger than Brando here,” said Pamela finally.

  Even with his back turned, Brando could tell they were looking at him. He sat up a little straighter.

  “Okay, so he looks young.”

  “Yeah, well, there were definitely some kids on that first boat, but I honestly don’t think he was one of them. And I know he wasn’t on the second.”

  “Yeah, Marco doesn’t remember seeing him down there, either.”

  “What makes you think he took my boat, anyway?”

  “Some English guy said he saw him waiting by the dock, early.”

  “Oh, yeah, that guy. I just brought him back here this morning, him and his family.”

  “Oh, yeah?” said the deputy.

  “Yeah,” said Zeke. “Can’t miss him. Nice guy, but he nearly sank my boat when he got in.”

  “They have luggage with them?”

  “No, just day-tripping.”

  Brando and his parents weren’t even pretending not to listen now. They’d turned in their chairs and were watching the whole thing.

  “Okay, okay, want to do me a favor?” the deputy said to Zeke.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then, yes, I’d love to.”

  “Take this flyer and show it to the big English guy when he shows up for the ride back. Ask him if he’s absolutely sure this is the kid he saw. Just double-check, okay? And then give me a call. Or have someone whose phone is not currently at the bottom of the sea give me a call, okay?”

  “He never saw the picture …” said Pamela, her words forming along with the thought.

  “What?” said Fulgham. “I thought you said —”

  “No,” she said. “He just said he saw a boy. We assumed….”

  “Oh, great,” said Fulgham. A shoot-me-now look flashed across his sunburned face as he stood up. “All right, thanks, Zeke.”

  “No problem. Say hi to the sheriff for me.”

  “Will do,” said the deputy, already moving toward the door.

  “We got these to go,” said Tam, picking up the half-empty cone of fries.

  “Good,” said the deputy, “because we’re going.”

  Drew looked around, unimpressed. She’d lobbied hard for this trip to Key West, but it wasn’t the party she’d been looking for. Or maybe it was exactly what she’d expected, and she was just now realizing that she didn’t much care for this sort of party. They were on Duval Street, the main drag. There were some nice shops, and the weather was lovely. But it was also the height of spring break, which meant that it was crowded, loud, and a little crazy around the edges.

  “I heard Florida was full of old-timers,” said Big Tony, “but this is just a bunch of rowdy y
obs.”

  Drew agreed. They walked past a banner that read SPRING BREAK EXTREMEX. Inside the little building, she could see a bunch of those yobs getting even rowdier.

  “What’s the extra X for, then?” she called over the noise.

  “That’s extra extreme, isn’t it?” said Big Tony.

  Kate didn’t answer. Her mouth was fighting a fierce battle against some salt water taffy she’d just bought. “Think I just swallowed half my fillings,” she said once she’d finally chewed the piece to death. “Have some of this.”

  She extended the box to both of them. Drew passed, but Big Tony took two. He began unwrapping both at once. “Don’t eat them both, dear,” said Kate. “They’re different flavors.”

  Tony looked down at them, one pink and the other light blue. He shrugged. “All ends up in the same place,” he said, popping both into his mouth.

  “Well that ought to keep him quiet for a while,” Kate said to Drew. “What should we talk about then, just us girls?”

  Drew smiled, but before she could answer, a group of college kids came barreling down the sidewalk at full speed. It wasn’t clear if they were running from something or toward something. Big Tony stood his considerable ground, and the spring breakers either avoided him or bounced off. Kate and Drew shrieked and pressed themselves against the side of a building, narrowly avoiding a collision.

  “GRRMMFERRLLS!” shouted Big Tony through the taffy.

  “You tell ’em, Da,” said Drew.

  “What say we get back to our sleepy little island?” said Kate. “Just do some lying about and get some sun?”

  That actually sounded really good to Drew. She was a little surprised at herself, but it did. When she got home and Becca asked her about “the party” on Key West, she’d just have to tell her it was a little too “extremex” for her.

  She took her phone out of her pocket, just out of habit. The service was switched off — no calls or texts. She checked the time and pretended that’s what she meant to do. It was already well into the afternoon.

  “Hope that’s switched off,” said Big Tony, having finally defeated the taffy. “Those roaming charges are bigger ’n I am.”

  His own phone was back in their suite, switched off, but the hotel phone next to it had been ringing regularly with calls from the police.

  Without another word, the Dobkins turned around. They walked slowly back toward the marina. They even crossed the street for some fresh window-shopping on that side of things.

  They’d made it almost all the way back to the marina when Big Tony decided to duck into one final store. It was a liquor store, and Kate didn’t approve. “They’ve got a bar on the beach and another one in the hotel,” she said.

  “Can only imagine what they charge,” said Big Tony. “Captive audience and all that.”

  “Fine, but I’m going in with you,” said Kate. “At least we can get something I like, too.” She turned to Drew. “You stay out here.”

  “I’m not going to get legless just walking into the place,” she protested. But it was no use. All she could do was post herself by the door as her parents disappeared inside. She watched the world go by, or at least the street. There were sunburned tourists and more college students.

  She saw a young copper in shorts go by on the other side of the street. He was scanning the area. She stood up a little straighter as his eyes passed over her. She was standing outside of a liquor store, but there was nothing illegal about that.

  She was about to forget the whole thing, but then she saw the family tagging along behind him. They looked familiar, but where had she seen them? It didn’t take her long to come up with the answer; it had to be the hotel.

  It was that family, that poor family from the lobby. She saw them following the young officer, scanning the street. They’re looking for that boy, she thought. But why do they think he’s here?

  Tam and Pamela both looked in her general direction, but Duval Street was crowded and they were looking for a thirteen-year-old boy with glasses or a large man with a shaved head. She didn’t fit either description, and they’d only seen her in passing at the hotel.

  Their eyes washed over her in a big swoop, like the beam of a lighthouse. They kept going. They were past her, and that was just about that. But there was one other person with them, of course.

  Brando was bringing up the rear in the search party. It wasn’t a lack of enthusiasm; he had the shortest legs. He took one more quick look across the crowded street. A little red car sped by, and when it passed, he caught a quick glimpse of a girl. There was something familiar…. A stout cargo van passed, blocking his view. He stopped. He almost got run over by the man walking behind him, but he stayed put. The van rumbled by. It was the girl from the hotel, the daughter of the big British guy.

  The guy they were looking for.

  He looked more closely, just to make sure. She saw him now: the little boy, the brother. They made eye contact, and she smiled at him. Flustered, all Brando could think to do was wave.

  Next to Drew, an elderly lady pushed her way out of the store. Drew helped her with the door and then ducked her head inside. She saw her parents waiting in line at the register.

  “Mum, Da,” she called.

  She’d found something more important for them to check out.

  Davey was wiped out. It was amazing that someone could be so drained and so waterlogged at the same time. He was cold, his shoulders and head still baking in the sun but his core temperature already down a few degrees from the long soak. He’d been in the water so long, he felt like cold spaghetti.

  And he was tired. He’d been hugging the bottle to him since early that morning. Now he’d begun to let go a little. It wasn’t going anywhere. He leaned forward onto it, one arm bent loosely around its thin plastic neck. They drifted in a lazy slow dance. Still, his shoulders and arms ached from the constant tension, and his chest was beginning to feel bruised.

  But more than any of that, he was mentally exhausted. The sharks, the shocks, the situation, the endless squinting into the distance and listening for any sound … They had worn him down like a piece of driftwood. His mind was shutting down, partly to recover and partly to protect itself from the horror of it all.

  It was bad timing, because the blue shark was agitated. It was no longer twenty or thirty feet down, avoiding the blacktips. Now it was cutting back and forth in sharp-edged zigzags in the warm band of water between the cruising blacktips and the surface.

  It could still smell the injured fish it had missed out on. Traces of blood and the oils from its torn flesh still hung in the current. Now the blue shark was thinking about having a go at this big thing. The blue could sense the electrical charge coming from it and hear the occasional hollow thump of water on plastic. It was an unfamiliar mix. It wasn’t a turtle, though it was big enough. The shark didn’t know what it was, but it knew how to find out.

  A quick bite and then retreat. If it was a tough thing, and dangerous, the other sharks would help tear it apart. The blue had learned that lesson early: There were always more than enough teeth out here. But with something this size, the blue would get its share.

  It twitched erratically, making a few last adjustments to its course. The blacktips had seen this sort of thing before and cruised in close behind it. The blue shot toward Davey straight and fast, knifing up through the water at a forty-five-degree angle.

  Davey was still leaning forward on the bottle, completely zoned out. Once again, the pressure wave of water arrived before the shark. Something inside Davey stirred. It was the base of his brain, the animal part that had kept him afloat when he was barely conscious that morning. Danger, it said. Wake up.

  He lifted his head and pulled the bottle in a little closer to him. His eyes snapped fully open. There was no time for anything else. The shark was there. Its sleek, pointed nose cut through the last few feet of water. The black eyes rolled back in its head, and its permanent frown widened for the bite, revealing two rows o
f sharp, serrated teeth.

  BONK!

  It hit the water cooler bottle.

  The impact carried through the plastic and knocked the air out of Davey’s lungs. He bounced high enough that the top of his swim trunks broke the surface of the water. The cheap bottle, the plastic a little on the thin side, managed not to rupture. Instead, it bent all the way in and popped back out in midair. Davey held on tight to the top as he splashed back down.

  The shark turned sharply to its right and then drifted there for a moment, confused and stunned. It shook its head violently from side to side, part surprise and part bite reflex. But there was nothing in its mouth. Something had gone wrong. It swam away quickly. It understood instinctively that if the other sharks realized it was stunned, they’d tear it apart. That’s what it would’ve done.

  The little fish had scattered. If fish could talk, these ones would say, “Ha ha ha! Hit your nose! Loser!”

  But the news wasn’t all good. The activity had agitated the blacktips, triggering their competitive instincts. And the impact on the empty bottle had created a big sound this time, like a bass drum beating underwater. And big sounds attract big things.

  A misunderstanding that had endured for hours unraveled in a matter of seconds. Standing outside the liquor store on Duval Street, Deputy Fulgham showed Big Tony the flyer. “Is this the boy you saw by the docks this morning?”

  “Nah, that’s not him.” He said it quickly and with a thick accent — Nah-ats-not-ihm — but just the initial N sound was enough.

  Tam shook his head in disbelief, and Pamela dropped hers in defeat. The rest of the Dobkins crowded in for a look.

  “No, the boy we saw was younger,” said Kate.

  “I saw him,” said Drew. She reached out and touched the picture with her finger to leave no doubt which boy she meant.

  “You did?” said Fulgham. “When?”

  Everyone turned to look at her. She took a breath and told them what she knew. “Yeah, that other one, the little one, was just waiting for his family by the dock. I saw him. But this other one, this one here, he was farther on.”