Authors: Douglas Carlton Abrams
“It’s not over yet, Frank. There’s still a chance to turn it around.” Elizabeth’s stomach growled with hunger. The fate of the whales and the world would have to wait until after she had eaten. Her child was hungry, and there was no way to feed a child on despair.
Elizabeth and Frank stepped into Saul’s to grab a quick sandwich. The long deli display case was practically overflowing. All around them hung New York photos and memorabilia. Elizabeth remembered all the delicatessens she had eaten pickles in, studied in, and heard people argue in while growing up in New York.
While they waited, Elizabeth thought about the talk. She had a better idea what might have caused the health problems in the whale calf in Bequia. She kept thinking of the meaning of the sounds in the song.
Baby. Baby. Danger
.
“Professor Maddings said that the new song originated in Bequia,” Elizabeth said, as much to herself as to Frank. “Echo began singing it after Sliver’s calf was born sick.”
“Do you think the song is about Sliver’s sick baby?”
While Frank was clearly dubious, she appreciated that he was trying to help. “No. If that were the case, why would the song have spread around the world? Why would other whales have chosen to adopt it as well?”
Frank paid the cashier and took the bag of food. Inside were two sandwiches and two large kosher pickles as well as the potato knish, half a pound of macaroni salad, and bagel with cream cheese Elizabeth had also ordered. Feeling a little embarrassed by her appetite, she moved toward the door.
Elizabeth noticed a black-and-white picture on the wall. It was of an old synagogue. She ran her fingertips across a line of Hebrew carved into the synagogue’s stone wall. She noticed two words repeated in a row. She did not recognize the words, but she recognized the letters from her Hebrew school classes. In some ancient languages, she had learned, repetition was an intensifier—or perhaps a multiplier.
Her heart started to race. “That’s it,” she mumbled to herself, her mouth full of bagel. “That’s it.”
“What?” Frank asked as he caught up to her.
“I think I know why the whale is repeating the sound for ‘baby.’”
They pushed their way through the glass door. As she spoke, little puffs of moisture were visible in the cold night air. “They’re not saying
Baby—danger.
They’re saying
Babies—danger.
It’s plural.”
FIFTY-FOUR
9:00
A.M.
Next day
Wednesday
Sacramento
E
LIZABETH LOOKED DOWN
at her ring finger. It felt all the more naked now that she and Frank were back together. Together but not actually together. On their way home from Berkeley, Frank had been paged to the hospital.
When she got home, Elizabeth realized that in the flurry of everything, she had forgotten to tell Frank about Teo. She called Frank’s cell phone, but the voice mail box was full. She didn’t want him coming home and finding Teo there. She’d swing by the hospital and tell him after her meeting with Bruce Wood, the reporter.
The reception area of the
Sacramento Times
spilled over into the offices of its reporters. The large open room was filled with the hum of people talking. Everyone walked quickly and she could feel the tension in the air. At a daily paper, every hour counted toward making deadline.
“He can see you now,” said the secretary, who was smiling and starry-eyed at having met the “whale lady.” Frank had convinced Elizabeth to try out her theory with one journalist before announcing it on live television at the press conference. She had seen how easily her words could be misunderstood or misconstrued.
The metro news area was a maze of cubicles, the dividers rising
high enough so that people were hidden while seated but could stand up and shout above them. Fixed to columns in various places were televisions tuned to CNN. Bruce Wood was leaning far back in his chair, his fingers laced behind his head. As soon as she saw his wry expression, she regretted having come.
“Your message said that you wanted to talk about pollution. Does this have to do with crop dusting?”
“Not only. This is a much greater threat.”
“Look, Elizabeth, I already told you that pollution is not news in the Central Valley. I was hoping you were coming in for a feature story on whale whispering.”
“I realize that this might be beyond the interest of metro. That’s why I called to see if the news reporter and the science reporter might be able to sit in on the interview.”
“Based on what you said in the message—that the whales are worried about their babies—the editors weren’t convinced that we were dealing with news—or, quite frankly, science.”
“I realize this may be hard to accept, but I’ve identified two calls—one for ‘danger’ and one for ‘baby,’ which is repeated, possibly as a plural.”
“Danger’ and ‘baby’?” The reporter spoke very slowly, as if he were speaking to an imbecile or a lunatic.
Elizabeth steeled herself and persevered. “I believe the whale is warning other whales that their offspring are in danger.”
“I see. Well, for every…whale…that has a doomsday projection, there is probably another whale that is saying everything is coming up roses. Uh, not sure if whales know about roses…coming up seaweed?”
“I can see that you don’t believe anything I’m saying.”
“No, frankly, I don’t.”
“I realize that it’s hard for us to imagine that whales are intelligent enough to communicate or care about one another.”
“I once read that they were about as smart as dogs. I’ve met some smart dogs in my day, but they couldn’t do much more than fetch and roll over.”
Elizabeth remembered something Maddings had said about cynics being heartbroken optimists who never wanted to have their heart broken again. Wood, like so many others, would never be able to risk believing what she was telling him. Elizabeth got up, realizing there was no reason to continue the conversation.
The newspaper on Wood’s desk reported another homicide down by the river. Elizabeth turned back to the reporter and jabbed her finger down on the front page. “Murder and war, your so-called news stories, are not really news at all. Those stories are as old as our species. The real news is what is happening for the first time in the history of our planet.”
As Elizabeth walked away, Wood stood and called out to her over his cubicle wall. “Call me if you want to be profiled in the pets and people section.”
FIFTY-FIVE
9:10
A.M.
Davis
F
RANK WAS EXHAUSTED
and glad to be coming home, if only for a few hours of desperately needed sleep. He imagined Elizabeth’s long black hair tickling his nose as he curled up against her that night. For now he was just grateful to lie down for a few hours in his own bed.
Frank tried to find the right key as he inserted several that all looked alike. The knob started turning by itself. Standing in the doorway was a swarthy, broad-shouldered man with two different-colored eyes.
“Who are you?”
“And you must be the long-lost husband. Frank, is it?”
“Yeah, and who the hell are you?”
“My name is Teo.” He sized Frank up from head to toe. “So you the one Liza left me for?”
“Liza? You mean Elizabeth.”
“Before she your Elizabeth, she my Liza. Come in. She be back anytime. We cooking up some breakfast.”
“Elizabeth doesn’t cook.”
“Maybe she just like island cooking.” Teo was baiting him. Frank saw the kitchen knife in his hand.
“What are you doing in my house?”
“Your house? I thought you left. I guess that means Liza can do
as she please, and it please her to have me here.” Teo started walking back into the kitchen.
“I don’t believe this.”
“Believe it, man,” Teo called out. “Just ask her.”
Frank’s mind was reeling. Was she playing him? Had she cuckolded him? “Get out of my house!” He didn’t care whether the man had a knife or not.
“Is Liza’s house now. Remember? I leave if she tell me to.”
Frank’s blood was pumping into his fists. He turned and slammed the door behind him.
FIFTY-SIX
11:35
A.M.
Sacramento
F
RANK HAD TRIED
E
LIZABETH
on her cell without success. Maybe she had turned it off while she was in the meeting with the journalist. She often forgot to turn it back on. He paused before entering the exam room and shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts that kept circling in his mind like a dog chasing its tail. Whatever he was feeling about Elizabeth and Teo, he would need to leave it in the hall. He looked down at the chart for six-month-old Justine Gates.
Frank opened the door. Delores Gates, Justine’s nervous mother, had stopped in on her way to the surgeon. She stared at him, desperate for help. Frank looked at the baby girl in her arms. Justine was dressed in a pressed pink sailor’s outfit. Her brown eyes looked at him with wonder, and the fluorescent light reflected off her smooth cheeks and button nose. Frank hoped his child would be as adorable.
Justine’s mother was smartly dressed in a pink pantsuit, and her long, straightened hair did not have a strand out of place. She wore black cat’s-eye glasses, which somehow made her look both more beautiful and more intelligent. Her husband stepped back into the room from taking a cell phone call in the hall. “Sorry, it was the office.” He was apologizing more to his wife than to Frank, and her raised eyebrow registered her displeasure at her hus
band’s priorities. “There’s an emergency at the Rio Vista chemical plant.”
“You work at a chemical plant?” Frank asked, knowing that worker exposure was often a risk factor for children and wondering if he should factor it in to his differential diagnosis.
“I’m the chief financial officer for Heizer Chemical Industries International,” Gates said as he tilted his head back and looked down his nose at Frank. He squared the shoulders of his green pin-striped Italian suit, which probably cost more than Frank made in a week, maybe even a month. Yet when they had first met, Frank had felt the strong grip of someone who had once worked with his hands. Gates’s arrogant reaction hinted at the insecurity of a man who fears slipping back to where he began.
Frank tried to ignore the father’s arrogance and gather the information he needed. “Do you spend much time at the plant itself?”
“Our company has thirty-five plants around the world, Dr. Lombardi. I work out of the headquarters in San Francisco.”
“I am asking…for health reasons,” Frank said, trying to recover from the awkwardness of the moment.
“Periodically, I need to go to one of the plants for an audit or other emergency. Why?”
“On-the-job exposure is one concern, but let’s not jump to conclusions or a diagnosis. The tests should be back tomorrow, so we will know for sure. Now there is no sense worrying until we know what we are dealing with.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Justine’s mother said, pulling her child more tightly into her arms, as if she were trying to protect her from whatever news they might hear the next day.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Frank said, stepping out of the room.
Elizabeth was standing in the hall. “I missed you last night—” she said with a seductive smile.
Frank was not smiling. “Apparently, you had plenty of company.”
“Are you talking about Teo?”
“Yeah,
Teo
.” Frank’s voice was hollow and cruel. “What is he doing here? I thought that was over before we were even together.”
“It was over—it is over. I tried to leave a message on your cell phone to tell you he was in town and needed a place to stay. He’s still a friend.”
“Sounds like a
very
good friend.”
Elizabeth did not know how to answer. “What are you saying?”
“It’s not what I am saying. It’s what he said.” Frank’s voice was raised.
“Dr. Lombardi, please report to the NICU.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“Frank, this is crazy. Call me so we can talk?”
“Talk to
Teo.
And get him out of our house.”
E
LIZABETH ALMOST KNOCKED
the door down, and Teo jumped out of the kitchen with a knife.
“You better protect yourself,” she said.
“Oh, is you, Liza,” Teo said, returning to the kitchen.
“What did you say to Frank?”
“I just tell him the truth. That we together. Like we were.”
“
Were,
Teo!”
“We were never over. You never give me a real chance.”
“I knew what I wanted, and you were not it. Now get out of my house.”
Teo stepped toward her and grabbed her arm. Moving in as if they were dancing, he kissed her hard on the lips.
Elizabeth struggled against him and reached behind her for something—anything—she could use to defend herself. Her fingers
grazed a knife sitting on the counter, but Teo knocked it just out of reach before she could get her hand around it. Teo smiled at his victory and stepped back. As he did, Elizabeth slapped him across the face as hard as she could. “I’m married, Teo. I’m married—and I’m pregnant.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
1:30
P.M.
Liberty Slough
A
POLLO WAS BEING ATTACKED
from every direction—the pounding and clanging shook his entire body—piercing his skull like sharp teeth—overwhelming his hearing—confusing all of his senses—
His eyes searched in the dark water for the danger—as the sound closed in from all sides—
He stayed away from the shore—where the sound echoed toward him—but there was no escaping the cacophony
—
Boats were corralling him like a pod of killers—
He began to slap his tail against the water—but the noise would not stop—