and Gideon followed. Daniel ran ahead and climbed up the side of the whale. He stood atop, hands akimbo, looking as if he’d like to stick in a flag and proclaim it the New World.
“Come on!” he shouted.
It rose ever upwards and outward. I could see nothing of the beach or ocean beyond, only a black wall stretching into the sky and across the world. The thought of it passing weightlessly over the watery surface of the earth filled me with fear and respect for the ocean’s secret, unexplored depths. But the same ocean had spat it into this heavy, alien netherworld, perhaps in banishment for some broken rule understood only by the creatures of the deep.
I laid my hand gently on its rough exterior. I had never felt anything like it. Coarse in some places, smooth in others. Still, it was all wrong. This was not where it was supposed to be, and it was clearly in pain.
“He’s right, Mr. Kayle,” Gideon said, standing a few feet behind me. “It has to be moved back. It can’t stay here. If it dies here it’ll cause problems.”
I ran my fingers along the grainy, curved wall of its long body. It was peppered with clusters of white callosities. Finally, I reached its eye. Its large eyeball rolled in its socket and I leaned to peer into it, as if through a window.
“So, how we gonna do this?” Daniel yelled from above.
“I don’t know,” I said, but I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “We’ll need more of us. And rope. She’s not going to last long. She’ll probably die of dehydration.”
“How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That it’s a she ?”
“I don’t know. Is it? A guess.”
“A good guess!” Daniel yelled. “Come to the back and see for yourself!”
He walked the length of the whale and jumped to the sand. I looked at Gideon, a man of few words, but could tell he was just as overwhelmed.
“Go on! Take a look!” Daniel shouted. “Underneath!”
Together Gideon and I followed Daniel to the rear end. I leaned over and Gideon dropped to his haunches.
The tail and y-shaped fin of a calf hung from the mother, lying still in the water. Barely half of it had been pushed out, the head was still inside. It was dead—that much was certain to us—before even having taken its first breath.
“You know why she did this, right? Got herself all beached up?” Daniel said. “Magnetic fields! Disrupted echolocation systems! Electromagnetic activity. I’m telling you! There’s tech being used somewhere. The grids are back up. They’re not telling us, but there’s tech being used by someone out there.”
The ocean raced up on either side of the whale mother, lifting the baby’s lifeless tail for a moment (offering the illusion that it was still alive) and then retreating. “So, should we take it out? I mean, out of its mother?”
Gideon and I held back an immediate reply. The rain continued to hurtle so ferociously hard that at one point I thought it had turned to hail. The ocean foamed, folding over itself and charging the shore, passing our knees as it came up and sucking hard on us as it went back out.
“Not right now,” Gideon said. “That’s my feeling on this. For now, we need to think about getting the mother back into the water, if it’s even possible. The baby is gone. We can’t waste time. Also, she could bleed to death if we try. I don’t know these things. Maybe it’s already too late.”
I agreed with Gideon. We needed a real plan.
Ultimately, we came up with less of a plan than a next step: Gideon and I would remain at the whale’s side while Daniel ran back to the commune to call for more help.
Daniel nodded at that and swiftly left.
Later, when the rain had finally stopped, he returned with around sixty large men, the log-herders who kept the beach fires stoked. They carried all the rope they’d been able to gather. Gideon and I stepped aside and allowed them to co-ordinate the task.
They discussed how they’d go about it, and then hurled thick ropes
“Come on!” he shouted.
It rose ever upwards and outward. I could see nothing of the beach or ocean beyond, only a black wall stretching into the sky and across the world. The thought of it passing weightlessly over the watery surface of the earth filled me with fear and respect for the ocean’s secret, unexplored depths. But the same ocean had spat it into this heavy, alien netherworld, perhaps in banishment for some broken rule understood only by the creatures of the deep.
I laid my hand gently on its rough exterior. I had never felt anything like it. Coarse in some places, smooth in others. Still, it was all wrong. This was not where it was supposed to be, and it was clearly in pain.
“He’s right, Mr. Kayle,” Gideon said, standing a few feet behind me. “It has to be moved back. It can’t stay here. If it dies here it’ll cause problems.”
I ran my fingers along the grainy, curved wall of its long body. It was peppered with clusters of white callosities. Finally, I reached its eye. Its large eyeball rolled in its socket and I leaned to peer into it, as if through a window.
“So, how we gonna do this?” Daniel yelled from above.
“I don’t know,” I said, but I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “We’ll need more of us. And rope. She’s not going to last long. She’ll probably die of dehydration.”
“How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That it’s a she ?”
“I don’t know. Is it? A guess.”
“A good guess!” Daniel yelled. “Come to the back and see for yourself!”
He walked the length of the whale and jumped to the sand. I looked at Gideon, a man of few words, but could tell he was just as overwhelmed.
“Go on! Take a look!” Daniel shouted. “Underneath!”
Together Gideon and I followed Daniel to the rear end. I leaned over and Gideon dropped to his haunches.
The tail and y-shaped fin of a calf hung from the mother, lying still in the water. Barely half of it had been pushed out, the head was still inside. It was dead—that much was certain to us—before even having taken its first breath.
“You know why she did this, right? Got herself all beached up?” Daniel said. “Magnetic fields! Disrupted echolocation systems! Electromagnetic activity. I’m telling you! There’s tech being used somewhere. The grids are back up. They’re not telling us, but there’s tech being used by someone out there.”
The ocean raced up on either side of the whale mother, lifting the baby’s lifeless tail for a moment (offering the illusion that it was still alive) and then retreating. “So, should we take it out? I mean, out of its mother?”
Gideon and I held back an immediate reply. The rain continued to hurtle so ferociously hard that at one point I thought it had turned to hail. The ocean foamed, folding over itself and charging the shore, passing our knees as it came up and sucking hard on us as it went back out.
“Not right now,” Gideon said. “That’s my feeling on this. For now, we need to think about getting the mother back into the water, if it’s even possible. The baby is gone. We can’t waste time. Also, she could bleed to death if we try. I don’t know these things. Maybe it’s already too late.”
I agreed with Gideon. We needed a real plan.
Ultimately, we came up with less of a plan than a next step: Gideon and I would remain at the whale’s side while Daniel ran back to the commune to call for more help.
Daniel nodded at that and swiftly left.
Later, when the rain had finally stopped, he returned with around sixty large men, the log-herders who kept the beach fires stoked. They carried all the rope they’d been able to gather. Gideon and I stepped aside and allowed them to co-ordinate the task.
They discussed how they’d go about it, and then hurled thick ropes
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