Ocean: The Sea Warriors (2 page)

Chapter 2

Gwyneth’s mind was split between two goals, and one had to be accomplished before the other was possible. For the first, her short-term goal, she needed to escape from the hospital, because only then could she proceed with the second, and do everything possible to benefit the ocean.

Every time she was permitted out of her room she studied details of the building carefully, and committed them to the copious memory compartments of her remarkable mind. Under her original, hastily considered plan, she’d noticed an apparent vulnerability in the Tea Room on the top floor—a fire escape that she’d thought she could use to reach the street, after which she would run through the village to the ocean. But a fellow patient, Beavan DeLorean, had given her a warning about that route, asserting that it was a trap laid by the hospital staff, to see who might try to get away, and then catch them easily. After thinking it over, she’d taken the cautionary words seriously.

It was late afternoon now, and she stood at a window in the Tea Room, staring across the frosty rooftops to the sea, and a passing container ship, heading west. It was a massive vessel, with cargo boxes piled high on the decks, and a stylized automobile design on the side of the hull—a design so large that she could see it even at this distance, without binoculars. She heard the vessel sound its booming horn, causing a sailboat to hurry to get out of the way. Other small boats positioned themselves for the strong wake that was sure to hit them.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and the mysterious word surfaced again in her mind, across a soft, murmuring awareness:
moanna
.

Although information had continued to flow into her brain about the ocean, none of it explained this word—except she sensed, and sensed strongly, that it had something to do with the sea. She also continued to sense that, not far offshore, somewhere beneath the waves, were whales, and they were waiting for her, ready to escort her to the next stage in her life. If only she could get out of here….

Hearing something behind her, she looked and saw Beavan DeLorean. He moved close and stood with her at the window, towering a full head over her and weighing several times what she did. There were no staff attendants anywhere nearby—only a nurse on the other side of the room talking with an elderly male patient.

Though Beavan had always seemed non-threatening in the past, he appeared to be agitated now, and she could smell the perspiration on him. Still not knowing what his medical diagnosis was, she felt a sudden wave of fear and wanted to leave—but he placed a large hand on her shoulder, preventing movement. His hand felt oppressively heavy.

“I’ve always been hyper alert,” he said, in a calm voice. “I’m a great observer, and I’ve noticed you casing the hospital, looking for weaknesses in security, ways that you might escape, if given the opportunity. I have done that myself, preparing to get away if I ever decide I’ve had enough of the foolishness they put us through. Gwyneth, if you study this mental institution carefully, you will see it is a sieve, with so many ways out it would take me half an hour to just summarize them.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

He removed his hand from her shoulder, said, “You have nothing to fear from me, Gwyneth. I only want to help you.” Something about his voice reassured her. It was filled with warmth and compassion.

She looked around, hoping no one could overhear them—overhear
him
, actually, because she didn’t intend to try to speak. It was always difficult for her to organize her many thoughts in that way, and it was even harder if she did not know someone well, and did not feel entirely comfortable with that person.

The nearest people to them were a pair of scruffy male patients, playing a card game while they drank tea and nibbled on little sandwiches—looking like bums who had been invited to afternoon tea at the Ritz in London, or the Savoy. Both wore baseball caps, and Gwyneth had seen them playing cards on numerous occasions, not only here, but in the cafeteria and in the activities room. Earlier, she had overheard them discussing the strange behavior of sea creatures in the Hawaiian Islands, a situation that had apparently been going on for a couple of weeks, though she had heard nothing of it previously.

“I’ve made mental notes of what I’ve seen here,” Beavan said, “and clear patterns have emerged. Perhaps you have noticed this yourself, but every weekday for a few minutes around ten-thirty in the morning, the corridor on the west side of the exercise yard is left open to the outside. That’s when the food delivery man comes and goes, and he leaves the door blocked open so he doesn’t have to keep fumbling with keys on both sides, going in and out. Have you ever noticed that?”

She hadn’t, but did not respond, except to look up into his dark-eyed gaze. Previously she’d thought his eyes were distant, perhaps from electroshock therapy, but now they held a warm illumination, which she found comforting. And standing here with him seemed odd to her, because she’d just been thinking of whales that were waiting for her out in the water, and now here was this massive young man trying to help her escape, but he was a creature of the land. It made her think of how immense the world and everything in it was, and how very tiny she was. But as small as she was, she had a huge task to undertake.

My mind is not small
, Gwyneth thought.
It contains many things, many
important
things.

She wanted to say something to Beavan, but found herself unable to form the proper words, and not wanting to do so.

“Just think about what I’ve said, okay?” he said. Both of them noticed the nurse making her way toward them, a stocky woman in a gray uniform.

“Time to go back to your rooms,” the woman said.

***

Chapter 3

Preston Ellsworth III and his grandson stood on Olamai Beach watching the activity of small motorboats just offshore, as the crews laid nets underwater that were of a better design than before, to more effectively protect the swimming area from sharks and other predators. At the same time, teams of scuba divers armed with spear guns shot any dangerous fish that had already ventured into the protected zone, and earlier Jeff had buzzed the water in a helicopter, flying low and dropping explosive charges in the water to frighten creatures away.

The beach was closed, and Preston had posted security guards onshore and in boats to keep people away—until the work was completed.

“I see a barracuda out there,” Jeff said, pointing. While his grandfather listened, Jeff radioed the position to the divers, and moments later the long, slender fish vanished—too quickly to give Preston any assurance that it had either fled or been shot.

“We’ll have to keep patrolling inside the net for anything we missed,” the old man said.

Over the years, Preston had taken actions to protect sea life, for the benefit of scuba divers and tourist boats. Now he didn’t care so much about the deaths of marine creatures, convinced that they were more numerous than environmentalists claimed.

Here, dead fish had washed ashore (mostly from the explosives Jeff had dropped), and the waves in the shallows were turning the white sand beach red, while a crew scooped up the carcasses and hauled them away.

“Bloody sand is unsightly,” Jeff commented.

“They’ll wash clean soon enough, when the tide comes in.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Preston had never been so worried in his life. The scale of the attacks by marine animals against the beaches was something that should not be occurring in Hawaii; it was unprecedented, threatening to turn paradise into hell. To boost the improved physical barrier, his crews were also installing an electronic system that would keep poisonous jellyfish out, discouraging them from even approaching the barrier. He also had a seabed monitoring system; a system of high-resolution underwater cameras that was capable of detecting even creatures that tried to camouflage themselves, such as stonefish.

“I never anticipated anything like this in my business plans,” he said, glancing at the younger man. “My father taught me to always consider worst case scenarios when making decisions, but I’m certain that neither he nor my grandfather ever faced a situation that was so perplexing, so far out of control.”

The Ellsworth elder shook his head sadly. The animals of the sea were going berserk, and it was costing his resort a lot of money—not only the added expense of protecting the beaches, but the continuing loss of revenues. The ranch’s hotel was only seventy-four percent full, when normally it was fully booked at this time of year, as mainlanders came for sunshine, beaches, and flowers when their own weather was bad.

Through it all, he knew his newspapers, radio stations, and television stations around the islands could show their own increased revenues (albeit temporarily) if he permitted them to run feature stories on the loss of tourism, but he’d been trying to keep a lid on the crisis, hoping things would turn around. Now, despite his efforts to suppress the bad news, it was leaking out anyway; the problems were being reported by national and international news outlets.

“At least no tourists have been killed in the attacks,” Preston said. “That’s something, anyway. The sharks and barracudas have not actually bitten anyone. It’s strange the way several species keep scaring swimmers off, though, heading toward people and then veering off at the last possible instant—just enough to give them one helluva scare. And the box jellyfish attacks with toxins that are not their customary lethal deliveries. The same for the stonefish, too. I wonder what in the hell is going on….”

Jeff didn’t comment. No one seemed to know why it was happening, but this was not paramount in his mind. He was only going through the motions, trying to do what his grandfather expected, trying to behave normally.

But his own life was far from normal. In Loa’kai Town on the other side of the island, another person—a young surfer—had died from the tainted Brazilian cocaine, making three in all on Loa’kai, in addition to those who had been hospitalized. He felt terrible about the deaths, but tried to convince himself that they were not his fault, because he had not manufactured the bad product. Yet, his feelings of guilt had been increasing. By rights, he should never have gone into that business, and he’d only continued it out of greed and a desire to become independent of the old man standing next to him—a stubborn fool who refused to die and leave Jeff his rightful share of the estate.

From what Jeff had heard, cocaine deaths were also occurring on the other islands, as many as four or five additional fatalities so far. It was becoming a big story, and he’d seen it covered on one of the leading cable news channels. He’d noticed increased police activity in the Wanaao area too, as the local cops were questioning people—but so far, not him.

Jeff had destroyed his own supplies of drugs (tainted and otherwise) and cleaned out the helicopter, getting rid of as much evidence as possible, while keeping the cash he’d accumulated in a small safe that he’d buried in the jungle, on ranch property. None of the locals knew of his activities, because, from the beginning, he’d arranged for Pauly Tahina to make low-level contacts in the Wanaao region, telling street dealers where they could find stashes of drugs that Jeff left—and requiring that they leave payments at remote pick-up points. So far, that system had worked extremely well, enforced by the threat of violence from Tahina’s Honolulu gangsters. No one wanted to go against that.

But there were chinks in any protection that Jeff tried to put around himself, small and large details that other people knew—or
might
know—about him. He had always made his deliveries and money collections at night, dressing in black clothing and a mask, and going down trails with a flashlight. Two months ago, though, he’d heard a rustling in the shrubbery by a pick-up point and had seen a small-time dealer named Nick Mako hiding there. Jeff had shone a powerful flashlight on his face, and no beam had come back in return.

Deepening his voice, Jeff had said, “I see you in there, Mako. Now get out of here fast, if you want to ever want to see daylight again.” It had been a bluff (because Jeff was not armed) and Mako had fled, leaving Jeff to hope that he had not himself been recognized. Afterward, he had reported the incident in an encrypted e-mail to Tahina, and Jeff never saw Mako again. Either the man had fled, or had been killed by Pauly’s men.

Assuming Mako was not a risk to Jeff, that left Pauly Tahina who knew details of his secret life. It was a chink in the armor that Jeff had placed around himself, and one that worried him more than any of the others. If he fell behind in his payments on the expensive sports car and condo that were in Pauly’s name, there was no telling what the drug lord might do in retribution.

***

Chapter 4

Beneath a bright tropical sky, Alicia and Kimo swam away from the shore of Loa’kai island, toward deeper water. So far, they were the only two human beings of their kind on the planet, and Kimo had begun to teach her some of the things that Moanna wanted her, in turn, to pass on to others when they were transformed, too.

Earlier in the shallows, Kimo had shown her how to eat the bounty of the sea—a small butterflyfish, a starfish that was harmful to coral, even a large protein-rich worm and tiny snails that he stirred up from sediment on the bottom. To Alicia’s surprise, she had not felt any queasiness about any of these things, and she had even noticed subtle, interesting flavors.

When Kimo instructed her, she had been intrigued to notice that even when he ate a species of fish, a school of the same species had continued to follow him, without any variation in the way they had behaved before. He had explained this to her, saying, “The way the gods designed the ocean, each species is a sustainable life form in and of itself, and I only consume an infinitesimal portion of that life form, which quickly regenerates, like a lobster regrowing a severed claw, or an octopus regrowing an arm. You and I are blending into the rhythms of the sea in a non-threatening way, not disrupting food chains or harming anything. It is like my father the fisherman, who never overfished a fishing ground or species, but we are harvesting in a different manner. He, too, was blending into the rhythms of the sea, and was thankful for its bountiful harvest. Like my father, I am familiar with endangered species of this region, and I never eat them.”

Most of all, it amazed her that she had found someone like Kimo, so intelligent and compassionate, so different from any man she had ever met before, or than any man she had even
imagined
meeting. Somehow, in the immensity of the world, the two of them had found one another, and in the process they had not only discovered love—they were embarking on a huge adventure together, doing something
really
significant.

“You’re a fine swimmer,” he said now, as he made his way through the gentle waves with smooth crawl strokes. “Almost as good as me.” Then he laughed and swam faster, getting ahead of her. While previously Alicia had kept up with him, now she attempted to match his pace, but found herself falling farther and farther behind. She heard him chuckling as he pulled away from her, and eerily she realized that she was not hearing him in the air, but through their molecular connection in the water, whenever she immersed her face in it.

Part of the reason Kimo had brought her here today was to make her feel more comfortable with her new swimming abilities, and to see if she had special talents, such as a strong connections with any of the marine species. Thus far, Alicia had not shown any ability to guide the creatures whatsoever, but Moanna had said she might excel at other tasks instead. There were so many mysteries, so many unknowns.

Since Alicia’s transformation, the two of them had also been exploring different options about how to contact the names on the list in the most effective possible manner. In addition, they’d been estimating how many people they needed to convert in order to lead sea creatures against all of the major Hawaiian beaches. Kimo thought they would need as many as twenty hybrids for the Big Island, and perhaps one hundred and fifty in all, to cover the other islands. That would mean that a substantial number of the two hundred and eighty-seven names on the list would need to qualify and be converted into hybrids by Moanna,
and
they would need to show an ability to guide some of the species—particularly the dangerous animals that were needed to frighten away swimmers.

She’d been thinking she loved Kimo, but they had not known each other long, and this gave her pause. There were frightening dimensions to the watery realm in which he had grown up—and in which he seemed to want to spend so much of his time. Alicia wasn’t sure if she could do that, living in the sea more than on the land, but knew she had to continue on the path she was on, continuing to adapt to the astounding changes in her life. She had to contribute whatever she could to save the world’s ocean, and she had promised to help Kimo, undertaking a plan that was larger than anything his father and mother had suggested about a demonstration in the Hawaiian Islands. Kimo wanted to eventually expand that, to encompass every nation on the planet that fronted the ocean.

The two of them had an immense goal in mind, a commitment to right many of the past wrongs of humankind. It was no small undertaking….

He was well ahead of her now, visible on the surface of the water as he made powerful crawl strokes that carried him away from shore, while occasionally looking back. He waved to her, but he was too far away for her to hear anything he was shouting.

Seeing the whitecaps beyond him, Alicia wished she’d brought her surfboard, and that her life could be simpler than the complexities that had enfolded her. She envisioned herself riding the crest of a large, wild wave as it crashed toward shore, an immense and beautiful force of nature.

Just then, a peculiar sensation came over her, and for a moment her mind seemed to spin, and her stomach with it. Then she felt a sudden boost behind her, causing her to rise and actually stand on top of a wave that accelerated toward Kimo, with her aboard it. It was like a powerful tail wind thrusting her forward, except it was water.

She liked the feeling, as it reminded her of surfing the wild, ragged swell-line of a wave—except now the wave was going out to sea, instead of toward shore—and she was not standing on a board, but was instead on top of the water, riding
on
it, and catching up with Kimo quickly. She felt a sudden rush of fear. Was she caught in an undertow? If so, it was stranger and more powerful than any she’d ever experienced.

Alicia surged past Kimo, as if propelled by her own private wave, taking her at least a hundred yards beyond him before she was able to swim to one side and then make her way back toward him.

“What the hell was
that
?” Kimo asked. He looked alarmed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I don’t know. A really cool wave just caught me and carried me out, a little rogue wave, I guess, or some sort of undertow—except I was standing on top of it, as if I were Jesus! What a strange experience! And it came just as I was thinking about my surfboard, that I wanted to ride a wave.”

As she said this, she again felt the spinning sensation in her mind and stomach, and another wave formed behind her, lifting her up atop the water and propelling her back toward shore. Once more she felt fear, and a complete lack of control. This changed to exhilaration when she discovered she could turn the wave at a thought command, and thrust herself in a different direction—and the wave stayed with her. She could also speed it up and slow it down. Finally, as before, she dove to one side and swam out of the wave.

Several hundred yards from Kimo now, she again thought of surfing and felt the peculiar sensation in her head, and the wave rose beneath her and carried her toward him. Reaching Kimo, she slowed down and dove to one side to dismount, then watched the wave continue beyond them before dissipating and vanishing into the aquamarine sea.

“What were you saying about swimming faster than me?” she asked, with a broad grin on her face.

“Do that again,” he said, in a good-natured tone. “If you can.”

She did.

Just a thought impulse by Alicia transmitted a message to the water that caused it to generate a wave that could rise, fall, speed up, slow down, and change direction, as she wished. Grinning, she returned to Kimo and slipped off the wave.

“It’s incredible,” she said, as the two of them paddled in the water and tried to absorb what was happening. “Apparently I can’t lead sea creatures, but I have another ability.”

“It is amazing,” he agreed. “Just think of what has already happened to me, and to you—and both of us are able to do things that no humans have ever done before.”

“We’re freaks,” she said. “Circus freaks.”

“Moanna wants us to lead others,” Kimo said. “That’s why we’re the way we are.”

And Alicia wondered: When other humans were transformed, what would their special powers be? Maybe some would be the leaders of species, while others would only be able to swim in the sea like fish, and consume plankton and other nutrients from the water.

Only.

She smiled at the thought, because connecting with the ocean in that manner would be a glorious privilege for anyone who loved the sea, a wondrous thing by itself.

***