Skeleton Sea

CHAPTER 52

We rose early.

We needed to pack our equipment and drop by the market to pick up fruit and something chewy, yet to be negotiated, and then drop by Peet's to fill our thermos for the trip back home to the mountains.

But outside it was sunny.

Walter said, “What do you say to a quick walk on the beach? Stretch our legs before the long drive?”

“I say yes.”

Walter opened the sliding glass door and we went out to the golden sand and the blue sky and the sea sparkling like mica.

Keep this up and we'd find an excuse to extend our stay.

We had the strand nearly to ourselves.

It was low tide — incoming — so we took off our flip-flops and edged down to the wet sand and headed south, for no reason other than that direction gave us a splendid view of Morro Rock.

The sand molded to our feet and the sun warmed our backs.

We came to the eroded remains of a sand castle and, beside it, a child's orange plastic shovel. Walter picked up the shovel and tossed it to higher ground.

He didn't say it and I didn't bring it up but I was abruptly yanked back to a vision of the showy sand castle on the Keasling beach. If we reversed course and headed north we would in time come to the bluffs and the Keasling turf. I recalled Lanny's pride in the sand castle, and his boasting of the Keasling childhood nickname. Suitable name, I thought — the Sea Urchins. Prickly, brightly colored, eye-catching. But you wouldn't want to pick one up.

We remained on our southerly course.

Up ahead, a small group was gathered around something in the sand.

We drew up and I nearly shouted stand back but there was no urgent need of the warning.

The group gave the jellyfish some space.

It was about the size of a fist, flattened in the sand. Translucent — grains of sand visible right through it. It was hardly recognizable as Aurelia aurita, but for the clover-leaf pattern in the center of its bell. So pretty, even in death. A harmless-looking saucer.

“Over there, like, here comes another one!” A teenage girl in the group pointed down the beach.

We looked.

A small wave sent a lip of water onto the sand and deposited another gelatinous disk.

The little group started for the newcomer.

I said, “Stay back.”

Walter was already on the phone with Tolliver, and then he was on hold, and then when Tolliver came back on the line Walter put the phone on speaker.

Tolliver was saying, “I'm getting other reports. She says looks like they're all dying. She says their stingers can still hold venom — I'll be sending my people to collect them but meanwhile keep everybody away. She says Flynn engineered a fast-growth gene, he was hurrying up the moons, he wanted to see the effects in action — the sonofabitch — but she says his notes say the side effect is likely sterility so those polyps at Diablo might be the last generation. We can only goddamn hope.”

Walter said, “By 'she' I assume you mean Dr. Russell.”

“That's right, Violet Russell, she's here with me now.”

“Here, where?” I asked.

After a moment he answered, “Fresco Cafe.” And then in the background he was speaking to a waiter, “We'll take it with us,” and then he came back to us to say, “Every time I order olallieberry pie these goddamn jellyfish interfere.”

I said, “You and Violet Russell and olallieberry pie for breakfast? Romantic.”

He didn't respond to that. I figured he blushed. I figured he deserved a happy morning.

And then we heard Dr. Russell, in the background, “We'll have the pie now, Doug. Your people can collect the specimens and I'll get to them this afternoon. More will probably be coming in. No need to dash off right now.” There was the clink of dishes being set down, and then Russell, once more, “We're in it for the long haul.”

I wondered if she was referring to herself and Tolliver — the romantic breakfast being just the start.

I feared she was referring to the sea. To the changes, where the ecosystem is flipping. To the new normal out there, where jellyfish are on the rise.

As for me, I wondered if Oscar Flynn's big bad boys were going to stay put in our patch of ocean, for the long haul. Sure, they were chipped and could be tracked. But then what? According to Russell, if they're threatened as they die, they release billions of reproductive seeds which produce more polyps, and grow into more big boys.

I shivered.

Walter and I moved up to the dry sand and sank down, wriggling our toes into the warmth. Keeping an eye on the people drawn to the little saucers coming in on the tide. Waiting for Tolliver's people to come collect them.

Looked like we weren't going to be getting on the road any time soon.

After a time baking in the sun, I asked, “No wisdom from the ancient mariner?”

Walter took his own sun-warmed time to reply. “Best not commit a crime against nature.”

I nodded. “Food for thought.”

We fell silent.

After another pensive pause, he said, “Here's more food for thought. We could pick up an olallieberry pie, for the road.”

I nodded.

Now that gave me a measure of comfort. Some things just never change.