Deadly Waters (5 page)

B
efore Jack could switch off his fury over the stolen camera, Bridger took off his hat, flung it onto the dock, then jumped into the water, boots-first. Everything was happening so fast, it was like an advanced level of a video game—too much action all at once, on all corners of the screen.

In the four-foot-deep water, Bridger waded to where Ashley said she'd seen blood.

“Right there,” she called out. “No, a little more over that way.”

“You sure?” he called back, gingerly feeling around with his foot. Then, “Oh-oh. Something down here. It's big—it feels like a body. Come on, Jack.”

A body! That drove all thoughts of his camera out of Jack's mind; instead, he remembered Mr. Watson's cook. He hesitated, rocking on the toes of his sandals at the edge of the dock as Bridger urged, “Jack, get in here!”

Before Jack could move, Bridger submerged his whole head and torso under the mangrove-stained water. When he burst upward again in a spray of drops, he yelled, “It's a manatee.”

“Dead or alive?” Jack jumped off the dock, splashing shoulder deep in the murky water. Just as he hit bottom, Bridger cried, “And it's got a baby.”

“Wait for me!” Ashley landed right behind Jack. Since she was only five feet tall, the water came higher on her than on the two boys, all the way up to her neck. Instead of wading toward Bridger, she swam, her arms cleaving the ripples in precise strokes until she reached where Jack and Bridger were standing.

“OK,” Ashley panted. Jack looked at Bridger, who gave a nod. “We'll do it together. Go,” Bridger ordered.

The three of them plunged underwater at the same time. Even through the murk, they could see the huge, soft body of the manatee, with a baby tucked under her flipper. Bridger pointed at the manatee's back. It was slashed inches deep, like a hot dog split from the heat on a grill, and bleeding through the blubber beneath its skin.

When they burst above water for air, Jack cried, “The boat's propeller sliced her! Gordon killed her!”

“She's not dead,” Ashley said, bouncing to keep her head above water. “The baby's nursing.”

“But she's not moving. And she hasn't been up for air—a manatee can drown!”

Ashley shook her head. “They can stay underwater for 15 minutes, Mom said.”

“Yeah, but any wild animal's gonna try to get away from people,” Bridger told them, “and this one's just lying there. She's either cut too bad to move, or she's stunned from getting hit hard.”

“Fifteen minutes….” Jack rubbed water out of his eyes. “That's the maximum. How many minutes since the boat slammed her?”

Bridger shrugged. “Don't know. Feels like a long time, but I can't really tell.”

“We gotta bring her up for air,” Ashley declared. “Or else she'll drown and the baby will die, too, without a mama to take care of it.”

The two boys stared at her. “What do you mean, bring her up?” Jack asked. “How? She must weigh half a ton, at least. Maybe more. She's
big!
”

“Everything weighs less underwater, Jack. You know that. I bet you two guys could get her head up so her nose is above water. You pull her, and I'll take care of the baby.”

“But half a ton! No way!” Jack was sure it wouldn't work, and Bridger looked just as doubtful.

Ashley's hair was plastered to her face in dark fingers; she yanked the strands away from her eyes impatiently. “If we don't at least try, the mother manatee will die,” she said, her brow furrowed in worry. “Then the baby will die. Do you want to just stand here and watch?”

“Maybe you're right,” Bridger said slowly. “I've been around animals all my life, and I can tell this one's not acting right.”

From his mother's research, Jack knew how valuable every manatee life was in the Everglades. If they did nothing, two more would die. Two more endangered lives lost, gone forever, like water into sand. Ashley's plan was impossible, but Jack couldn't think of anything better. Bridger's eyes flicked from Jack to Ashley, then back to Jack again, letting him make the decision. “OK, Ashley, it's worth a try,” Jack agreed.

Bridger took a deep breath. “Let's do 'er, then,” he said. Once again the three of them splashed beneath the still surface, and Jack felt the water, warm and dark, close over his head.

Jack and Bridger dove to the shallow bottom, swimming one on each side of the manatee, from its head to its flat, round tail. It lay motionless on the soft mud. Jack had known that manatees were big, but close up, this one looked enormous, shaped like a miniature submarine, 10 feet long at least. His father had said manatees were related to elephants, and Jack could see a resemblance—here and there, stiff, straight hairs grew out of its thick gray brown hide. Even its baby was huge, almost as long as Ashley was tall. How Ashley could possibly manage to get that big manatee calf up to the surface, Jack had no idea.

When the three of them came up for air again, Bridger said, panting, “Running out of time. All I can figure to do is, you grab it on one side, Jack, under its flipper, and I'll take the other side. We'll try to heave her head up, nosefirst. Can't manage more than that. That thing's heavy as a full-grown bull.”

“OK. If we just get the nose up, she can breathe,” Jack agreed. Down they went again. The boys attempted to grab underneath the manatee's flippers, but their hands kept sliding off its rough skin. In all the commotion, the manatee calf separated from its mother; Ashley was able to wrap her arms around it. Moving in a swarm of bubbles, she lifted the calf to the surface just as Jack and Bridger came up for air.

The four-foot-long baby wiggled and began to squeal and squeak. Even if it was brand-new, it knew this wasn't supposed to be happening to it. “It's all right, baby, don't be scared,” Ashley cooed. The 60-pound calf writhed in her arms, splashing water into Ashley's open mouth. “Puft!” she spat.

Suddenly, next to them, the water parted; they could feel it swirling around them, an onslaught pushing against them, before they even saw what caused the upheaval. An immense mass rose with a force that knocked Jack and Bridger off their feet. It was the mother manatee, looming huge, rivulets streaming off her gray sides, like in a scary movie where a sea monster emerges from the bottom of the ocean.

Even though she'd been hurt, the manatee's consciousness must have been penetrated by her calf's cries. Like any mother, she was rushing to defend her infant. Ashley barely managed to hang on to the calf. It squeaked even louder than before, while its mother answered with vocal squeals of her own.

“Drop the baby!” Bridger yelled. “
Drop it!
” When Ashley let the calf go, it swam to its mother's side.

Mouth agape, Jack stared into the adult manatee's face—wide-set, beady eyes, bristly moustache, a snout like an armored tank, ready to run over him. When she opened her nostrils to breathe, they looked like the finger holes in a bowling ball. Even though he knew that manatees were the gentlest of creatures, the animal's very size took Jack's breath away. “Let's get out of here!” he shouted, pushing himself backward through the water, trying to stay on his feet.

“Wait!” Instead of moving back, Bridger went closer to the manatee. “I want to get a look at those cuts. Find out how bad they are.” But before he could get near, the manatee submerged again, her baby once more at her side. “I'm going back down,” Bridger said, and followed the manatee beneath the surface.

“That Bridger—he's not scared of anything,” Ashley said. “He's got guts, don't you think?”

In reply, Jack spit out a mouthful of water, not liking the taste of it.

Exploding through the surface, Bridger shook his hair so that drops flew in an arc around his head like beads of glass. “We're OK,” he gasped. “I got a good look—the propeller just cut through skin and blubber on her back. Didn't go too deep.”

“Is she moving?” Jack saw the ripples swirling only feet away from him. The manatee must be there, hidden by the murkiness.

“She's pretty much staying put. I think she's still stunned. The boat hit her hard.”

“How bad is she bleeding?” Ashley asked.

“Not that much.” Bridger pinched his nose, squeezing water out of his nostrils, then rubbed his eyes to clear them. “I think some of the blood's from giving birth. Looks like that baby was just born. Probably right before the big one got hit.”

“I hope you're right—that she's OK,” Jack told him. “When Frankie gets back, she can radio the park rangers. They might want to take the manatee someplace to heal.”

Ashley bit the edge of her lip. “Except, how will the park people find her? She might swim away from here. Frankie said the pelican would get infected from just having a torn place in its beak. What'll happen with all those cuts the manatee has?” Jack didn't have an answer, but Ashley's face quickly cleared as she hit on her own plan. “I know. We'll circle her, the three of us, standing around her so she can't get away. We'll use our bodies to keep her close to the shore.”

“That's insane,” Jack argued. “We can't stand here in the water for hours, waiting for Frankie and then for animal rescue people to come.” Anyway, he thought, three kids weren't going to make a half-ton manatee stay where it didn't want to be. He wiped the lens of his waterproof watch with his thumb. Ten forty-five. Frankie ought to be getting back soon. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he searched the waterway, looking for any sign of the
Pescadillo
. The glassy river was empty as far as he could see, shimmering in the sun as though it had been sprinkled with bits of mirror. Then a movement, barely breaking the water's skin, caught his eye. Twenty feet away something skimmed the surface. Immediately he remembered the big alligator that had been sunning itself on the sand-covered tangle of mangrove roots.

“We'd better get back on the dock,” he said. “There's gators around here.”

“But what about the manatee?” Ashley asked.

Squinting, Jack tried to understand the shape as it glided closer. The shape didn't look anything like an alligator. A fin, silver in the sun, sliced the water like a razor. A dolphin?

No!
Suddenly, Jack realized what it was, out there in the water, and it made his throat clamp tight. “Ashley,” he croaked. “Get out!”

“But—”

“Shark! Bridger, right behind you!”

With a splash, Bridger whipped around, his eyes widening with fear when he saw the fin, now only five feet away from him.

“
Ashley, get out!
” Jack screamed again.

He felt as though he were in one of his nightmares, the kind where he tried to run but his legs felt as heavy and unwieldy as lead. Right, left, right, left—with every step he could almost feel teeth slice into his extended leg. Jack pushed through the water, holding his arms out as he pumped toward his sister, reaching for her.
Why did she seem so far away? Why was it taking so long to get to her?
Faster and faster he went until he grabbed her outstretched hand. Pulling her behind him, he reached the dock and heaved himself onto it, then leaned down and yanked Ashley straight up out of the water. Her shins scraped against the rough wood as she fell to her knees.

Bridger catapulted himself onto the dock, a sheet of water tumbling off his torso like a waterfall. “Did you see it?” he asked.

Ashley couldn't speak; she could only nod.

The three of them sprawled on the dock, gasping as they watched the fin circle the spot where the manatee had been only moments before.

“The shark's going after the manatee and her baby,” Ashley said, her voice shaking.

Grim, Jack nodded. “Probably drawn by the smell of blood.” They sat for a moment, staring, as the shape glided close, then farther away, like a phantom. Ashley drew her knees to her chest and thrust her chin on top, clutching her legs so tightly the skin on her fingers blanched white. Jack couldn't tell whether she was crying or whether the drops running down her cheeks were dripping from her hair. “We can't just sit and watch the baby get eaten,” she whimpered.

Jack pointed in the direction of the circling shape. “Ashley, look at that thing—it's six, maybe seven feet long. One bite could take off a limb. There's nothing we can do.”

“Maybe there is,” Bridger said quietly.

Moving quickly, he flipped open the cooler and grabbed two six-packs of soda pop. “How good's your aim?” he asked Jack, thrusting a cold can into Jack's hand.

“Pretty good,” Jack answered. “Ashley's, too. Why?”

“OK. Let's see if we can scare that thing away. Ashley, here's one for you. On the count of three. One….”

Jack cocked his arm. The silvery shadow was still circling, close to the dock, then farther out, then back again.

“Two….”

He tried to anticipate how fast the shark was moving. Aiming for the fin, Jack targeted the water just ahead of the shark's nose. By the time the can sailed through the air, it might make impact.

“Fire!”

Three cans of soda pop sailed into the river, but only one, Ashley's, came close to hitting the shark. Ashley's can grazed its back, but the shark kept moving, its circle tightening.

“Again!” Bridger barked.

Three more cans arced through the air. Three more hit with a big splash, but it was obvious that the water slowed the impact too much. The cans sank slowly, uselessly, to the bottom.

“Again!”

“It's not working!” Ashley cried. “The shark doesn't care, and for sure it's not swimming away!”

“We need something else,” Jack said, looking around for something heavier, or sharper, that he could throw. If he'd been in Jackson Hole, he could have found plenty of rocks, but here, at the Watson Place, there were only leaves and silt. Feeling powerless, he watched the shark make another pass. He tried not to picture the baby manatee ripped by the shark's fierce teeth, or the mother being torn at the site of her wounds.