Fury Of The Orcas

by Hunter Shea

  FURY OF THE ORCAS

  Hunter Shea

  www.severedpress.com

  Hunter Shea © 2017

  This one’s for Rich Duncan. Thank you for everything, and I do mean everything.

  “They are no longer really orcas but mutants, genetically killer whales but made up of warped psychologies.”

  ― John Hargrove, Beneath the Surface: Killer Whales, SeaWorld, and the Truth Beyond Blackfish

  Chapter One

  Chet Clarke both hated and loved his job.

  “Why is he doing that?” the boy with the face of a wizened old man said, palms flat against the Plexiglas shield. His voice was high and reedy, like he’d taken a hit from a helium balloon.

  The sun fried the back of Chet’s neck to a crisp as he stared down at the manic orca. It flipped around several times before ramming its head into the side of the tank.

  “It’s a she,” Chet said, hands balled into fists. He kept them shoved deep in his pockets so no one could see.

  “Taka sounds like a boy’s name,” the kid said, his unblinking, bulging eyes glued to the spectacle.

  Chet did everything he could not to start shouting at the staff that milled around the tank. Why the hell was this kid still here? He shouldn’t be seeing this. Not unless they wanted to make sure he had nightmares for the rest of his short life.

  “Do you think she’s mad because she’s hungry?”

  Chet looked to Rosario Benitez for some help. He locked onto her wide, dark brown eyes, begging her to shuffle the kid away before he lost his temper.

  Rosario had been a trainer at the Anaheim Dolphinarium for seven years. She was very good at what she did, despite having one of the most loathsome professions Chet could think of. She loved the orcas and treated them as best she could. But they were still wild beasts locked in tanks that were a mere drop in the vast ocean they should be traversing.

  The orca’s massive dorsal fin was bent over on itself, flopping from side to side as she rocketed around the tank.

  “Taka’s just playing around. She gets like that when she’s tired,” she said, draping her arm over the kid’s shoulder and leading him away from the observation platform above the tank.

  “Is she going to hurt herself?”

  Chet had overheard one of the trainers say the kid had Progeria. The disease made him look as if he’d rapidly aged, his small frame and bulbous head seeming so fragile, Chet worried about accidentally bumping into him as he assessed the situation. The boy had been given a special behind the scenes look into the orca show thanks to a gift from the Dreams Come True Association.

  Chet was pretty sure this wasn’t the magic moment the charity had intended for the terminal boy.

  Rosario was quick on her feet. She assured him, “Killer whales have extremely thick skulls. They have to in order to take down big whales and sharks. Taka doesn’t even feel it. It’s just the same as how they can’t feel the cold temperatures when they migrate up to Alaska. Nature designed them to be tough customers.”

  Taka took another crack at braining herself, this time right below Chet’s feet. He felt the impact in his molars.

  The platform reverberated, a bucket of half frozen fish toppling over. Chet skipped over one of the fish as it slid past him, bouncing off the Plexiglas.

  This time, there was blood in the water.

  “Hand me another,” Chet snapped at the trainer standing by the bucket. It took him a moment to close his mouth and realize Chet was talking to him. He fumbled around to grab hold of one of the slippery fish.

  Tossing it in the water, Chet watched as it sunk to the bottom of the tank. Taka gave it a brief glance and swam away.

  “Dammit,” Chet hissed.

  The first dose of Valium wasn’t working and if Taka wasn’t going to eat the fish he’d dosed with the drug, he’d have to resort to the tranquilizer gun. He hated to use it and always kept it as an absolute last resort.

  This wasn’t the first time Taka had exhibited this behavior. She was getting worse and worse. He’d seen it in almost every orca he treated at marine parks all around the world. Even a captive born orca like Taka, who never knew true freedom, wanted to be out of its confined home.

  Orcas committing acts to harm themselves was nothing new. If people knew how many actually killed themselves, either when they were captured in the wild or later when a switch went off in their minds that enough was enough, Chet was sure all orca shows would shut down overnight.

  Who was he fooling? Even after that documentary came out, exposing the ugly truth behind the mad notion of keeping orcas in captivity, they still flocked to the shows in droves.

  Either they were willfully ignorant or just plain stupid. Chet would put all his chips on the latter.

  “She’s bleeding,” the kid said, pulling away from Rosario to press his ancient face against the glass.

  “Kid, you need to get back,” Chet said, waving him away.

  Taka swam in circles, a stream of blood billowing from her crown like smoke from a skywriting plane.

  “I thought you said she was playing,” the boy said, turning to Rosario.

  “She’ll be fine,” Rosario said with a faltering smile. She flicked a glance at Chet. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Taka was not going to be fine. Not today. Not ever. Orcas didn’t magically get better, not when their minds had gone.

  With a great rush of water, Taka broke the surface.

  The trainers screamed.

  The little boy stared at Taka’s sleek black and white body, gleaming in the oppressive sun, as she arced above the tank.

  Chet’s heart froze.

  No!

  There was no time to worry if the boy’s skeletal frame could hold up under his touch. Chet dashed to his left, scooping the boy in one arm and grabbing Rosario with his free hand. He left his feet, diving for safety as the massive orca sailed over the protective Plexiglas.

  Just like the killer whale, Chet spun his body in midair, cushioning the boy against his chest, making sure his back took the brunt of the fall. He hit the deck with a sharp crack, his breath exploding from his lungs.

  Rosario screamed. He couldn’t see her but he felt her hand in his own, gripping tightly.

  Taka demolished the Plexiglas, beaching herself on the platform.

  It felt as if half the water in the tank came with her. Chet, the boy, and Rosario spun away like seaweed caught in an incoming tide.

  The pain in Chet’s back and chest was excruciating. It felt like getting sandwiched between two cars. His vision wavered as he struggled for air. Cold, fishy water filled his mouth, clogged his ears. Someone tugged on his shoulders, getting him into an upright position.

  Eyes stinging from the salty water, he stared in horror as Taka thrashed about, the shattered Plexiglas slicing into her body. Her cries made his soul ache.

  She didn’t sound distressed or hurt or even angry.

  No, Taka sounded…relieved.

  Chet looked down at his chest to find the boy clinging to him, his face buried in his soaking wet shirt.

  Rosario stood over them, panting, her long black hair dripping water on Chet’s face.

  “Are you all right?” he said to the boy, worried that he’d crushed him in his attempt to save him.

  The boy didn’t move or speak.

  People were shouting and running, unsure what to do.

  Hands trembling, Chet lifted the boy’s face from his chest, expecting the worst.

  His eyes were closed, mouth set in a thin line.

  “Kid. Kid,” Chet said, resisting the urge to shake him.

  When his eyes fluttered open, Chet felt his own body sag. “Help me up,” he said to Rosario, who took his arm and kept him steady. He handed t
he boy to her.

  “Get him back to his parents.”

  He noticed the boy avoided looking at the suffering orca. Instead, he plastered his face to Rosario’s chest.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked. Her normally copper skin was pale as death.

  His legs were wobbly, the rush of adrenaline making it hard to concentrate. Taka was on her side, her blowhole expelling gas and a spray of crimson mist. An advancing tide of blood was almost at Chet’s feet.

  Staring at Taka, Chet couldn’t find the words to answer Rosario. She said something else to him but he couldn’t make out the words.

  He watched a once great and majestic creature bleed itself out, her alien language calling out a last farewell to the orcas she’d called family in the holding tank behind them.

  Chapter Two

  Chet sat naked on his couch, the air conditioner on full blast, watching True Romance on his small TV for the hundredth time. He took a long sip of Anchor Steam beer.

  “You want some?” Rosario asked, holding the bong out to him. She too was sans clothes, all soft curves and flawless, bronzed skin.

  “It’s all yours,” he said.

  She took another long hit, eyes closing and settling deep into the couch, the bong nestled between them.

  “I can’t go back there,” she said.

  “Good.”

  “I mean it. I’d rather wait tables or be a cashier at a gas station than go through that again.”

  “They would be nobler professions.” Chet put a hand on her thigh. She lay her head on his shoulder.

  “I’m serious. What happened today, I…I…”

  Her eyes shimmered with tears. She’d been crying off and on all day and long into the night. Chet couldn’t blame her. This was her first orca suicide. She loved Taka. He was pretty sure Taka loved her back, in the alien way orcas were able to bond with their captors.

  Stockholm Syndrome, Chet thought. No, with people like Rosario, it was much more than that. They sensed when someone truly cared for them.

  Wrapping his arms around her, Chet kissed the top of her head. It had smelled like fresh berries after they’d come to his apartment and showered, washing the blood and seawater and stench of fear and death from their pores. They hadn’t even fooled around in the shower, trading foreplay for an intense scrubbing that left their flesh raw to the touch for an hour after their cleansing of the horror.

  “There was nothing you could have done,” he assured her.

  They’d spent the night consoling one another, anesthetizing themselves with weed and beer and making desperate love. All those crests and crashes should have rendered them unconscious by now, but neither could sleep and they were too sore to fuck.

  “You’re wrong,” Rosario said, wiping her tears away. “I could have quit a long time ago.”

  “What would that have done?”

  “I could have convinced the others to quit, too. If no one was there to care for them, they would have had to close the orca show and set them free.”

  If only things were that simple. Chet sighed, too tired to vent his frustration at a broken system once again.

  “Even if you convinced Chase and Allison and all the others to walk away, there would be a line of people willing to take your place. The only thing that’s going to stop it is through legislation. And then again, that will only end it in this country. There are eight other countries that still keep orcas for their amusement.”

  Rosario bolted from the couch, knocking the bong over. Chet lashed out to grab it before the filthy water spilled all over the cushions.

  “But someone has to be the first! If…if we did it, the other countries would follow.”

  He patted the couch. She plopped down next to him and lay across his bare lap.

  Chet said, “Granted, if that ever happened, I’m sure Canada would follow suit. Maybe Norway. But the others? I don’t think China and Russia give a shit what we think. If we outlaw it here, though, that’s taking care of the lion’s share of the issue. We may look to places like China and Russia as the cold hearted bad guys, but in this instance, we’re the real monsters.”

  It was a sad but true fact. Orcas were on display in nine countries, but the United States was home to over half the total of imprisoned killer whales.

  “Then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll start a campaign to get a federal law making it illegal to keep orcas and all dolphins in captivity.”

  He twirled his fingers in her curly black hair. “What will you do for money?”

  She kissed his inner thigh. “You’ll support me. We’ll be a team.”

  “Oh? I thought you said we needed to keep this casual.”

  “That was before. Don’t tell me you haven’t been waiting for me to change my mind.”

  Chet looked down at the perfect woman draped across his lap. They’d been friends with benefits off and on for the past couple of years. She was right. He’d secretly desired more from their relationship, but didn’t dare rock the boat. Rosario was far above his pay grade. She was as smart and funny and caring as she was beautiful. There was no way he was going to say or do anything to ruin what they had.

  “So it took a catastrophe to finally get you to realize I’m the love of your life?” he said, wishing he could take it back immediately. She just hinted at them getting more serious and here he was dropping the L word. What an ass. He could always blame the weed later.

  She got up and straddled his lap, their noses touching, glassy eyes locked on one another.

  “You saved my life. And you did everything you could to save Taka’s. You’re an incredible man, Mr. Clarke.”

  They kissed softly, slowly, and Chet realized he wasn’t so sore anymore.

  Chapter Three

  The email was a welcome surprise.

  Chet had contracts with all of the marine parks in the western world to give medical consultation on their dolphins and orcas. He was always on call to assist with live births, health crises, deaths, and in Taka’s case, mental breakdowns. Orcas in captivity had a slew of health problems that weren’t found in the wild. A healthy orca could live up to eighty years.

  Not so for the poor creatures stuck in aquariums and marine parks, whose lifespans were cut dramatically due to stress, human interaction and poor living conditions. Man hadn’t made a tank large enough to suit the needs of an orca.

  It appeared that Sumar, an orca caught in the wild and now trapped at Marine Paradise in Barcelona, was going to give birth to a calf next week. He had been following Sumar’s pregnancy all along, but recent events had knocked him sideways. Sure, he’d been witness to orcas acting out to end their lives, but never to such a dramatic and bloody end. Sumar’s little miracle had taken a backseat to some big changes.

  True to her word, Rosario had quit after returning from the paid week vacation her boss had provided for her nearly being killed. He wasn’t surprised by her decision, but he did throw more money at her to change her mind. It didn’t work. He’d mistakenly thought that she was leaving her career behind due to some kind of post-traumatic stress. She made it crystal clear that she was tired of being part of the problem, no matter how good her intentions had been.

  They’d celebrated her emancipation with a dinner by the ocean at her favorite Italian place, followed by a wild night in her apartment that resulted in a broken shower faucet and cracked box spring.

  The Anaheim Dolphinarium was being sued by the sick boy’s parents. It had made the rounds on all the local news stations and had even gone national for a night. One of the souvenir shop workers on a break had recorded the whole thing on her phone and given the file to the mother and father. As delighted as Chet would be to see the marine park go under, he knew that if it did, the remaining orcas would just be sold off and shipped to other parks like slaves.

  At least Anaheim did a decent job at caring for them. Some of the other options were less than desirable. He cringed at the thought of the Russians getting their hands on them.
<
br />   He couldn’t worry about that now.

  First, there was Barcelona.

  He wrote back to the president of the park, asking for a second ticket and updated room accommodations in exchange for a reduction in his consulting fee. They were quick to oblige.

  Grabbing his cell, he dialed Rosario. She picked up on the first ring.

  “What’s cookin’, good lookin?”

  He heard a seagull caw in the distance.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “I went to the beach for a run. Now I’m just catching some rays.”

  “It’s too hot for running.”

  The heavy breasted weather girl who wore shirts a size too small for her robust frame had said it was going to hit one hundred today. Chet’s AC was already having a tough time cutting through the creeping heat.

  “You wouldn’t run unless someone was chasing you,” she said, laughing.

  “On a day like today, they could have me.”

  “It’s nice to get all sweaty and just jump in the water.”

  “Haven’t I been making you all sweaty enough?”

  “You sure have,” she replied, her voice dipping lower, sexier.

  “Say, do you have any plans for Friday?”

  “Other than signing up for every job board I can find? Nope.”

  “I may have a job for you. It’s temporary, but I think you’re well suited to the task.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “You ever been to Spain?”

  There was a pause. “Nnnnooo.”

  “Really?”

  “I think I’d know if I’d been to Spain. Hell Chet, I’ve only been out of the country once, and that was to Cabo on spring break.”

  “Well, get your Spanish to English dictionary, because you’re going to Spain.”

  “For a temp job?” she said, sounding skeptical.

  “In a way. I’ve got a gig assisting with the birth of an orca at a marine park in Barcelona. I told them I needed to bring my experienced assistant.”