Kronos

7

Jeffrey’s Ledge-Gulf of Maine

Atticus shut down the yacht’s twin diesels. He listened to the water slapping against the fiberglass hull, felt the gentle rise and fall of the ocean beneath, and breathed deeply of the salty sea air. He was home…for one more day. Leaving the sea behind pained him, but strengthening his relationship with Giona was more important, and that couldn’t be done while he was away for months at a time.

The boat, on loan from a friend who owed him a favor, was sleek and fancy. It had taken Giona some time to believe that they had the seventy-foot-long, eighteen-foot-beam vessel all to themselves. Built as a ship for megasport fishermen, the Bugaboo also worked well as a pleasure boat, or in their case, a diving platform. The white hull gleamed in the afternoon sun, a white speck on the blue ocean.

Atticus’s mind turned to the ocean beneath. On the way to Jeffrey’s Ledge, they’d seen several plumes of mist ejected from swimming whales. The temptation to give chase and jump out after them was strong, but he knew whales in the deep water would be moving fast, impossible to jump in with. But at Jeffery’s Ledge, a glacial deposit that created upwelling currents, the water flourished with plankton, herring, cod, and the giants of the sea that fed on them-the whales…especially the humpbacks.

Atticus left the cushy seat of the Bugaboo ’s air-conditioned bridge and headed for the stern deck. He opened the door into the eighty-five-degree air and found Giona all geared up and eager to enter the water. She lobbed the dive buoy into the water and turned to him, face beaming. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

He wasted no time sliding into his wet suit, weight belt, buoyancy-control vest, and air tanks. Before donning the face mask, he double-checked Giona’s equipment, then his own. SEALs were known for entering the most dangerous environments on the planet, but they were always well prepared first. That was why so few of them came home in body bags. When Atticus felt they were ready for anything, he gave Giona a thumbs-up. She was beaming.

“One last thing,” he said. He opened a storage compartment and pulled out two cameras encased in waterproof shells. “I thought this might be a Kodak moment. Yours is a still camera. The flash will work up to fifty feet. It’s bright as hell, so don’t take any pictures of yourself. Mine is a video camera. I’ll get everything on tape…” He smiled. “Maybe you can show it to your kids someday.”

Giona had no words. She simply accepted the camera with a wide smile.

Two minutes later, they splashed into the water. While Atticus was a master scuba diver, Giona wasn’t a novice by any means. They both equalized the pressure in their ears and silently descended to fifty feet. The deep blue waters surrounded them endlessly on every side. It was as though they were floating in limbo, weightless, neither hot nor cold, where the trappings of the world, both good and evil, seemed irrelevant. Not limbo, Atticus thought, Heaven.

Then the waters spoke. A ghostly tune. The long, sad note carried through the water, passing the two small divers and continuing for thousands of miles beyond. It was answered by another. “Where are they?” Giona’s voice was just a whisper in Atticus’s ear.

“They’re coming.”

“Where?”

In fact, Atticus had no idea where they were. He could tell by the singsongy sounds that they were humpbacks, the most playful, and in his opinion, beautiful of all the whales. They were close. That was all he knew.

Atticus filled the silence with his voice. “Did you know that whale songs actually follow rules of musical composition?” His voice was filled with wonder, and he didn’t wait for Giona to reply. “They learn the song from their parent…from their family, and pass it down from generation to generation, elaborating on it…improving it.” He paused for a moment to listen. “I hope…I want to do that for you too, Gigi. I want to be a good dad for you, to teach you things you might find worth passing down to your kids. That’s why-”

A loud, bellowing song rolled through the water all around them. The song was so loud that Atticus knew he should be able to see the creature. He spun in circles, looking everywhere. As he spun, the water below him began to lighten. He looked down and saw the belly of a massive humpback arcing below.

“Wow!” Giona had seen it too.

Then the rest of the whales came into view, one at a time, an entire pod of humpbacks, lazily swimming and spinning, enjoying the freedom of the ocean. They were moving slowly, obviously curious about the small humans keeping pace with them. Their forward movement ended, and they began circling, diving, churning, approaching, and rising to the surface for air. A curious calf approached Giona, who held her hand out to touch it.

Atticus grew nervous. If the mother sensed a threat, they’d both be in trouble. But his fear was groundless. The mother gently nudged the calf toward the surface, reminding the little one to breathe. Giona had held her breath too, and now Atticus could hear her heavy respirations over the headset.

“Steady breathing,” he said. “Try to stay calm.”

“Did you see that?” Giona said excitedly, ignoring her father’s worried voice. “It was right there. I almost touched it.”

He could see her smiling face through the mask. He couldn’t resist. “Follow me,” he said. “Stay close, and move slowly.”

A large bull had been swimming lazily around them, clearly comfortable with the tiny creatures who, it knew, posed little threat. When Atticus and Giona swam up next to the forty-five-foot whale, it simply glanced at them and kept moving. A good sign. Atticus moved in closer so that he was swimming directly over the whale’s back. He reached down and rubbed his hand against the smooth whale skin, just behind its dorsal fin. Giona followed suit. The whale let out a gentle, bass call. It apparently enjoyed the attention.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Thank you.”

Before Atticus could respond, the calmness was shattered by a loud shrieking call that hadn’t come from this group of whales. Atticus could tell it had come from another pod, not far off. He reacted instantly, pulling up and away from the bull. “Giona! Get away from the whale!” He knew what would happen next.

Flukes pounded water, churning the sea wildly. Atticus could feel the currents swirling all around him, spinning him like a top. The whales had bolted, all of them. The incoming call was a warning. Something had them spooked.

When a second high-pitched cry reached them, Atticus knew that their troubles had just begun. The whales were closing on their position. Something was driving them. Atticus swallowed. He and Giona were in the direct path of a runaway freight train.