Eye of the Whale (36 page)

Skilling staggered. Bracing herself with the rope, Elizabeth lifted
her leg and kicked Skilling hard in the stomach. He lurched backward, tumbling through the transom and into the water.

His arms flailed for a moment in the water, and then he went under in the bubbling surf. He came up, fighting for air and struggling before going under again. Elizabeth tried to steady herself on the spinning boat but lost sight of him in the surf. Then she saw in the moonlight—

H
ER GRAY SNOUT
and gaping white mouth erupted out of the water like the swell of a violent wave—

Mother’s open maw—two times the width of her prey—swallowed the torso whole—

Rows of triangular white fangs—jutting from her distended pink gums—crushed him at the waist—

His yellow legs dangled from her massive jaws—

Mother’s supreme bulk did not stop at the surface but lunged completely out of the water—

She rose ten feet in the air—propelled by her roaring tail—which was still lashing back and forth in midair—its tips embowed by the force—

Around her mouth was a vast mane of silvery spray—

Water gushed out of her mouth over the limp legs
—

Her four-foot pectoral fins hovered in the air—sluicing sheets of water
—

The violent momentum of her attack forced her body into a complete roll—fins rotating—gray dorsal and back now facing the sea—

Her white underbelly hung suspended for a brief moment as the forces of the universe realigned—

Mother’s upside-down pectoral fins were helpless against gravity—

White froth cascaded off her body as her enormous mass of solid muscle and cartilage began to fall almost perpendicular to the water—

First her head sank into the dark water—followed by her vast underbody and at last the black scythe of her tail that cut seamlessly through the surface and disappeared into the deep—

E
LIZABETH’S EYES
were released from witnessing Mother devour Skilling, but her mouth remained agape. Her body swayed as the boat lurched to the side—it was about to be swept onto the rocks by a huge swell. She had to abandon ship before she, too, was broken against the rocks.

Without a moment to consider, Elizabeth jumped into Sea Lion Cove. Her breath stopped momentarily as if she had dunked her body into a bucket of ice. Metal and fiberglass groaned and shattered as the boat was thrown onto the black granite rocks. She heard much shuffling and barking from the inhabitants of the cove as the boat crashed onto the shore.

Elizabeth was surging up and down with the surf. She knew that she could be knocked unconscious by the ceaseless waves, so she pushed off from the rocks with her feet and hands, waiting for the water to ebb before a large wave. Knowing the risk she was taking, she scrambled out of the cove onto the sharp mussel-covered rocks, shredding her clothing and the skin of her arms and knees as the wave crashed over her. The pain was intense, but she breathed through it and grasped the slippery rocks to keep herself from falling backward. The wave receded and she crawled onto higher ground. Deep nausea welled up inside her as she retched out all the seawater and the terror she had swallowed with it.

We’re alive. We’re alive.

She collapsed against the rock and inhaled a great breath of gratitude.

E
LIZABETH LOOKED DOWN
at her watch. The glowing numbers told her what she had feared. She was saved, but Apollo was still in danger. Dragging herself to her feet, she began to limp forward on the uneven rock. The wind howled against her as she climbed over the jagged and slippery granite shards piled on the hills of Cormorant Blind and East Seal. Half of each agonizing step was lost to an inevitable, backward slide. Only her determination to help Apollo kept her numb and exhausted body going. The rhythmic beam from the lighthouse was like a heartbeat of hope, and the moon fought its way through the clouds, revealing the flatter ground of the marine terrace. She could see the researchers’ house.

She dragged her feet up the steps. The four small square windows on either side were dark. She was so cold her bones ached. It took every ounce of remaining strength to raise her hand high enough to bang on the door and awaken the resident scientists. The light switched on, and one of the biologists opened the door. The man had graying black hair, disheveled by sleep, and a two-day beard. Wide-eyed and openmouthed, he stared at her as if she were a ghost. But she knew she was not a ghost. Her body hurt too much to be dead.

EIGHTY-FOUR

5:00
A.M.

“I
NEED TO CALL
the Coast Guard.”

Burt Thompson, one of the resident bird scientists, finally managed to speak. “Come in, come in. How did you get here?”

Elizabeth shuffled into the living room while her host hurried around the room, turning on lights. Her eyes blinked as she adjusted to the brightness. White skulls, stuffed birds, and three other researchers all stared at her. A marine radio whispered in the background, interrupting a stream of static with a weather warning. Thompson led her over to an armchair draped with a colorful Mexican blanket. Her body collapsed into the chair, and she could feel her muscles shaking uncontrollably. She saw a television in the corner. “Does the TV work?”

Her host crouched in front of her, pulling the blanket around her, trying to warm her.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said.

“You’re in shock. Now try to rest.”

“I’m afraid there’s no time to rest. Please.”

One of the other researchers flipped on the satellite television and handed Elizabeth the remote. She’d hoped the story would be on one of the local news stations, but to her surprise, CNN was showing live coverage of the “mercy killing.” Apollo’s plight had made worldwide news. The reporter was aglow with camera lights; behind her, the slough was dark in the predawn gloom. “It seems that time is
about up for Apollo, who is supposed to be euthanized before sunrise today. Apparently, the decision has come as a surprise to many. We have just arrived with other television stations after an anonymous leak. There are also a few hard-core Apollo fans who have camped out overnight.” The camera revealed several people holding up signs that said
DON’T KILL APOLLO
and
ELIZABETH, WHERE ARE YOU?

“I need a Coast Guard evacuation immediately,” Elizabeth said.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Thompson said with the pragmatism and detachment of a field scientist. “There is no way they are going to bring a boat out in a storm like this unless it’s a matter of life and death.”

“It
is
a matter of life and death, and I don’t have time for a boat. I need a helicopter.”

The TV reporter continued, “Everyone here is asking what happened to Elizabeth McKay, the graduate student who was trying to communicate with the whale and has been called a modern Dr. Dolittle. Elizabeth has not been seen at the slough since yesterday afternoon. It seems there has been some controversy about the legitimacy of her research.” A picture of Elizabeth flashed on the screen. It was the not particularly flattering picture from her graduate application. “With no sign of Elizabeth and no other options, Coast Guard Lieutenant Isaac James says he has no alternative but to harpoon the whale.”

Thompson looked at Elizabeth, having recognized her. He picked up the plastic mouthpiece of the marine VHF radio and tried to hail a call on Channel 16. “Coast Guard, Coast Guard, this is Farallon Islands, over.”

“Farallones, this is Coast Guard. Go ahead.”

T
HIRTY MINUTES LATER,
Elizabeth was on the cement helipad in front of the research station, wearing dry, borrowed clothing.
Air Station San Francisco,
an HH-65 Dolphin helicopter, was hovering
overhead. Its red shell was glowing, and its four rotor blades whirled above, creating a downdraft of hurricane force. Its snout and domed front did resemble a dolphin. Thompson was shouting into a handheld, talking with the pilot as Elizabeth climbed into the steel cage and was hoisted up.

While waiting for the helicopter rescue, she had used the research station’s satellite phone to call Lieutenant James on his cell phone. But neither she nor Coast Guard Island in Alameda was able to raise him. She had reached Frank, who was beside himself with worry. She told him she would explain everything and asked him to meet her at the slough with the CD that she had dropped in the house.

“Welcome aboard, ma’am,” the rescue swimmer said with the military formality that exudes confidence and safety. Elizabeth looked around at the crew of four men and then pointed to her ear, signaling for a headset.

“Where are the other survivors?” the copilot asked. His voice was hollow, as if in a canyon, and in the background she could hear the muffled noise of the rotors.

“Liberty Slough,” she said slowly and forcefully to make sure she was understood.

“Liberty Slough? There are no survivors out here?”

“No,” Elizabeth said as she looked down at the dark water and thought of Skilling in Mother’s jaws. “No survivors.”

“I don’t understand,” the copilot said as the pilot started to fly back toward the Golden Gate Bridge. “We were told this was an emergency rescue.”

“It is. I’m the researcher who’s been trying to rescue the whale at Liberty Slough,” Elizabeth said. “I need to stop the Coast Guard from killing the whale.”

“You’re Elizabeth McKay?” the copilot said. “I saw you on top of Apollo!”

The rescue swimmer and mechanic were equally impressed.
“Wait until the guys back at base hear about our cargo!” said the mechanic.

“Lieutenant Isaac James and I were classmates at the academy,” the pilot said, speaking for the first time. “He was number one in our class.”

Elizabeth checked her watch. There was less than a half hour left. “I need you to take me directly to Liberty Slough.”

The pilot shook his head, knowing the impossibility of her request. “Sorry, ma’am, our orders are to recover any survivors and return to base. Period.”

Elizabeth’s heart sank as she heard the pilot’s radio check with base: “Sector San Francisco, this is Helo 6554.”

“Helo 6554, this is Sector San Francisco. Send your traffic over.”

“OPS, normal. Current position just west of Golden Gate Bridge. Five souls on board. Returning to base.”

“Roger, out.”

“You said you were friends with Lieutenant James, right?” Elizabeth said as they flew south toward the San Francisco airport. “Well, what do you think is going to happen if he kills Apollo? Do you want to be responsible for letting your friend ruin his career—and for the death of this whale?”

EIGHTY-FIVE

5:55
A.M.
Liberty Slough

L
IEUTENANT
J
AMES
was out of time. The veterinarian had not shown up, and it was up to him to finish it. He stood in the bow of the rigid-hull inflatable. The bright orange buoyancy tubes looked gray-brown in the gathering light. He had turned off his radio and cell phone to stop the barrage of calls from headquarters pushing him to kill the whale immediately. But as the sun peeked over the wetlands to the east, he knew that he was out of options. There was no way to get this whale out alive.

Apparently, no one had told the small crowd of gathered protesters that there was no hope. They were chanting, “Don’t kill Apollo. Don’t kill Apollo.”

The cold gray harpoon cannon hung down on the gun mount, the weight of the harpoon tilting it forward. The machine gun usually mounted there had been removed to accommodate the new weapon.

As Apollo surfaced, Lieutenant James looked down the long metal sight and pointed in front of the dorsal fin, wondering where the whale’s shoulder blades might be. He aimed the crude weapon with his right hand, two fingers on the trigger lever.

C
ONNIE’S CELL PHONE
rang. It was Frank. Maybe he’d know where Elizabeth was.

“I have Elizabeth’s CD,” Frank said.

“Her CD?” Connie heard a loud noise like wood splintering and then sirens. “What was that?”

“A security barricade,” Frank said. “Got to go. Just stop them from killing the whale.” Connie saw in the distance Frank’s car racing down the dirt road, with dust and a group of black security cars behind him. Connie looked at Lieutenant James. He was aiming the harpoon gun at Apollo.

“Teo! He’s going to fire!”

T
EO LOOKED DOWN
at the orange boat floating near the bridge. He knew he had to do something dramatic to stop them from killing Elizabeth’s whale. Teo climbed over the cement railing and jumped into the water. He swam quickly around to the bow of the boat and placed his body in the path of the harpoon.

L
IEUTENANT
J
AMES HEARD
a splash and then saw a man swimming from the bridge, distracting him from sighting on the whale. He knew it was one of the protesters. His heart was with them, but he had his orders. The boat sped to where the man was treading water, the bow wave covering him. The Coast Guard seamen pulled the protester in, despite his resistance, and quickly handcuffed him in the stern.

James looked back at his crew and the protester, all watching him silently. He hated to kill the whale, but he sure as hell was not going to make any of his men do it. He looked at the whale’s back, still floating calmly, seemingly undisturbed.
Now, where are those damn shoulder blades?
He sighted on the whale again as it exhaled its last breath. Lieutenant James winced as he started to squeeze the trigger lever.

EIGHTY-SIX

6:00
A.M.

A
IR
S
TATION
S
AN
F
RANCISCO
dropped out of the clouds with a roaring downdraft. Concentric circles of small waves spread out in every direction toward the shore. The helicopter hovered over Apollo, who dove beneath the water.