Waveborn

11

Chirp, chirp, chirp. Chirp-

The glow of Cass's cell phone filled the little cabin as she hit off the alarm. She was supposed to meet Jason in twenty minutes, with the dinghy, on the other side of the marina. Preferably without waking Jen. She'd slept in her clothes, so she could slide out of bed and get off the boat without making too much noise.

The wooden hatch leading to the deck wouldn't open. "Crap," she whispered. She crawled back onto her bunk to dig out her cell. She hadn't planned to take it with her, since there was a good chance she'd manage to dump it in the ocean. However, it did make a good flashlight.

She found the problem when she turned her phone on the hatch. It was latched. Jen, who never once locked up their boat in Argentina, where the crime rate was ridiculous, had latched the hatch so it couldn't be opened from the outside.

Cass shivered. Jen was afraid, here. What was she afraid of?

She pushed away the thought and carefully lifted the wooden panel. It scraped wood on plastic, freezing her in place, but Jen's door didn't open. It wasn't like it was that far away; her cabin took up the prow of the boat, while Cass's was wedged under the stern. But if Jen was in there, she didn't stir.

When her heart started beating again, Cass crept up the stairs and, after a brief debate, left the hatch open. She couldn't refasten it from outside. Hopefully, if Jen checked on her before she left for the day, she'd just think Cass had gone up to the marina to shower.

She towed the dinghy around to the Andiamo's stern, climbed aboard, and pushed off, letting it drift thirty feet out befoe she slotted the oars in place. A lone figure waited on the temporary dock. When she bumped against the boards, Jason grabbed the boat and stepped down carefully to sit on the bench facing her.

He carried a pack and a pair of rods.

"We're going fishing?" Cass whispered.

His lips quirked in a smile as he pushed away from the dock. "No, but it makes a good excuse if someone asks what we're doing out here so early."

The oars slid into the water without a sound. The tide was on its way out, which made rowing nearly effortless. They glided across steely water, following the southern curve of shore, the harbor a bright oasis at their backs. Hills rose in knobby silhouettes of rocks and evergreens beside them.

"You'll want to approach from the south," Jason said. "The tide's low enough that we should be able to pull up on the beach. We'll hit the edge of the Twister, though, so be careful."

"The Twister?"

"The channel between Remembrance and the big island. At flood tide, it can get pretty squirrely. Let me know if you want a hand on the oars."

"We can switch to motor once we're a little farther out," she said. She thought of the chart book with its warnings of rip currents and standing waves where the tide rushed through the narrow passage between the two islands. Twister seemed an appropriate name.

She'd just pulled up the oars to start the engine when Jason's hand lit on her shoulder. "Look!"

She twisted to follow his gaze.

The harbor's surface wavered and flashed, reflecting back the first hints of sunrise. Behind her, she could just make out where mounding rocks broke the water and, beyond, the black outline of Remembrance Rock.

"There it is again," Jason murmured.

She squinted-and saw it, a patch of shiny wet black too regular to be rocks or waves. She blinked and a black triangle took shape, rising above the water. An orca fin. There was no question.

"Shit," Cass hissed, and jerked her hand back from the motor. The propeller could injure the orca if he got curious and came too close. Besides, where there was one orca there were usually others. "What's he doing in the harbor?"

Jason didn't answer. There was no answer.

The air had that early morning stillness, even the waves rolling with uncharacteristic gentleness. Cass glimpsed his pale underbelly, ghostlike beneath the surface, and the bright white flash of his eye patch.

"See the notch in his fin?" she whispered. "I think we saw him on our first night, coming to the island."

"He's pacing us!"

Cass nodded. Every time the orca disappeared, she held her breath. Every time he resurfaced a little closer. Soon he was near enough that she could have stepped over the edge to swim beside him. The desire to do so took root in her chest, leaving her breathless.

She tried to memorize the map of white markings on his head and back, the scars on his dorsal fin. That was how scientists identified orcas. The markings on their tails, fins, and bodies were as unique as fingerprints. If she had a camera-if she had even her cell phone, which she'd stupidly put back in her bunk-she could take the photo back to the boat and get a positive identification. Not that he'd have a name. The orcas in Argentina had names-names like Jazmin, Ishtar, and Shekei-but in the San Juans they got numbers and letters.

Amak.

The word flashed through her head clear as her own thought, but it wasn't her own thought. She stared at the orca gliding beside them, black through black, suddenly dizzy.

The orca had-her mind stumbled, trying to process what had just happened. She'd heard a name. He'd communicated with her.

Or she was crazy. She had to be crazy.

And yet, when she searched the orca's dark eyes, she was certain: it hadn't just been her imagination.
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A/N
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