A Second Chance

Joshua is about to steal a fish. An Atlantic mackerel, shipped fresh from Canada. He has only spotted it a few seconds ago, but already, he knows he has to take it.

He sneaks a glance at Stephen, who is standing on the opposite side of the conveyer belt, absorbed in his work. Good; he is unlikely to notice what Joshua is about to do, if Joshua does it right.

The fish sits between half a dozen other mackerel, and is sliding quickly down the angled conveyer belt towards him. Soon, it will hit the spot where the belt flattens out and he and Stephen separate the fish into single file. If he doesn’t move quickly, it will be carried off from there to be guillotined and gutted, and he will have missed his chance.

“How’d it go meeting Jess last night?” Joshua tries to make conversation to calm himself, eyes still fixed on the fish.

Stephen shrugs. “Alright, I guess. She was nice.”

The machinery whirs and the mackerel slither closer, the movement of the belt making them jostle against each other as though they are alive.

“’Nice’?” Joshua scoffs. “That’s convincing.”

Stephen sighs heavily. “I don’t know. Third date in two weeks, and still no luck.”

“Maybe that’s your problem, man; too many different women. They always know, you know?”

Stephen sighs again, takes a fish in each rubber-gloved hand and slides them into the ridges on the conveyer belt. Joshua does the same, then surreptitiously flicks the mackerel he has spotted off the belt and onto the floor. He kicks it a short way so that it is lying out of sight beneath the belt.

“Josh,” Stephen says, almost sharply.

A wave of panic washes over Joshua and he looks reluctantly up at his friend. He has been found out now; it is all over before it even began.

“Is it just me?” asks Stephen, taking two more fish and slipping them into place in the ridges. “You can tell me. I can take it.”

Joshua relaxes, breathing a silent sigh of relief. “Just one question for you, Steve — did you tell Jess about your comic books? I know you think they’ll go for millions one day, man, but today is not that day. You know it never impresses the ladies.”

Stephen frowns and mumbles something that sounds like a “no” that is not at all convincing.

***

Joshua has to wait four hours until he can rescue the mackerel from underneath the conveyer belt. As soon as break is announced, he collects his lunch and makes for the toilets. When all the other workers have filtered outside into the fresh, fish-free air, Joshua slips back onto the factory floor. He approaches the belt slowly, heart hammering.

The mackerel is still there. Good.

He stoops down and retrieves the dead fish. It is ice-cold and slippery, and its iridescent eyes are wide and fixed. Under the fluorescent factory bulbs, they appear not the usual blue-green of its species, but lavender. Joshua smiles, knowing his first instinct was right; this fish is different. He looks into its dead, hypnotic eyes, knowing exactly what he needs to do.

Joshua unfastens the latch of his insulated lunchbox, pulls out the cheese sandwiches from within and shoves them roughly into his pocket. He places the mackerel carefully into the box instead and takes it over to the packing tubs of fish waiting to be processed. From the closest one, he digs out a handful of ice and tips it over the fish. He closes the lunchbox and stows it in his locker, where it will wait for him until he clocks off.

***

By the time Joshua gets home, it is twilight. He parks his car in the driveway and takes the lunchbox from the back seat. He makes his way around the side of the house to his backyard, which is covered in shadows in the day’s dying light. Joshua pulls his phone from his pocket with his free hand and pushes the flashlight button on the screen. A bright light immediately floods the ground in front of him, and he uses it to makes his way down to the pond at the end of the garden.

The pond is frozen, which Joshua is expecting. He puts the lunchbox down on the grass and casts his phone’s light around him. The bright beam shows mostly grass and sticks, but eventually illuminates a scattering of rocks around the far edge of the pond. Joshua moves over to them, selects the largest one, then makes his way back over to the lunchbox.

The rock is as cold as ice in his hand, and has several pointy edges that dig into his palm. Trying to ignore this, Joshua balances his phone on the lunchbox and kneels down beside the pond. He lifts the rock above his head and brings it down hard on the surface of the pond. It connects sharply with the ice, and after several blows, Joshua hears the ice crack. He smiles and opens the lunch box.

The mackerel looks exactly as he left it, its wide, purple eyes staring up at him through the ice he covered it with. Joshua takes it out of the box and, holding his breath, drops it into the freezing water of the pond. He sits back and waits, eyes fixed on the hole in the ice. The fish bobs there on the surface.

Several minutes pass and the feeling that perhaps he was wrong begins to creep over him. But then, just as he is about to turn away, Joshua sees a flicker of movement in the water.

He fumbles excitedly with his phone and manages to shine the light directly on the pond, just in time to see the mackerel’s tail wiggling out of sight beneath the ice. Joshua stares at the spot for a moment, wide-eyed, then lets out a whoop and grins wider than he ever has in his life.

***

Joshua is only able to wait three days before he is overcome with the urge to tell Stephen.

“I don’t get it,” says Stephen, as they walk up the steps to Joshua’s front door. “You want to show me a fish? We look at fish all day, Josh; I don’t really feel the need to see another one.”

Joshua grins as he takes his keys from his backpack, unlocks the door and pushes it open. “Like I told you; just wait and see. It’s brilliant, man.”

Stephen looks confused, but follows Joshua into his kitchen. He looks around cautiously, as though Joshua might be harbouring something illegal or disgusting. Joshua has not told Stephen very much about the fish, because he was worried that Stephen would think he is a few sandwiches shy of a picnic.

“There,” Joshua says triumphantly as they reach the tank he has placed next to the stove.

Stephen blinks at the mackerel swimming inside it, looking like he is trying to find a tactful way to say what he is thinking.

“It’s great, man,” he says eventually. “Really great.”

Joshua rolls his eyes.

“That fish,” he says, trying to keep his voice even, “used to be dead. I got it from the factory.”

Stephen’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh…uh. That’s—”

Joshua does not wait for his friend to finish. He takes him by an arm and steers him into the backyard.

Once they are at the pond, Joshua switches on his phone’s flashlight and shoves it into Stephen’s hands. He motions for Stephen to point it down at the pond. He slips his backpack off, unzips it and takes out a plastic bag. He holds it up to Stephen who, seeing that the plastic bag contains three dead, frozen mackerel, flinches away.

“Ready?” Joshua says, drawing out the fish by their tails and holding them over the break in the ice.

Stephen shifts awkwardly. “Uh…”

Joshua drops the fish in the pond and stares down at the water. Stephen stares too, but is clearly unsure what he is supposed to be looking at.

The two stand in silence for several minutes and, just as Stephen is about to suggest they go back inside, Joshua cries out.

“There!” he says, pointing at the water, which now swirls with swimming fish.

Stephen gapes at the pond. “What— how—”

“I was thinking I could do more of them, you know? Sell them on. To the right buyer, they could go for much more alive than dead,” Joshua says.

Stephen bows his head for a moment and takes a deep breath. Then, he turns slowly to his friend. “You could do other animals, too.”

Joshua grins and nods. “You can help, if you want.”

After a moment, Stephen gasps. “The Winchester Monkey!”

Joshua grins again. “The Winchester Monkey.”

“We’re gonna be fucking rich.”

***

Edward Winchester’s house is three blocks from Joshua’s, so it does not take them very long to get there. The back door isn’t even locked, not that it would have been a challenge for Joshua and Stephen to break in — Winchester is a naïve man who believes everyone in their town is honest, and so he has never invested in particularly good-quality locks.

Joshua checks the bedroom. Seeing that the large lump beneath the blankets is snoring, he eases the bedroom door closed again and pads back down the corridor to the living room.

Stephen is standing in front of a large glass box on the mantelpiece. Inside it is a stuffed tamarin monkey, arranged to look like it is sitting on a branch. It has long, carefully-brushed fur and a pink plastic tag on its ear. Together, Joshua and Stephen ease the glass case off and lift the monkey from its mount.

***

They reach the pond again in what feels like no time. Joshua picks up the large rock from where he tossed it three nights ago and angles it over the ice once more. He slams it down, chipping until the hole is wide enough.

Stephen holds the monkey aloft. “Ready?”

Joshua nods. “Ready.”

The tamarin hits the water with a loud splash, and Stephen and Joshua watch as it bobs, upside-down, on the surface. Then, they wait.

Time moves by slowly and after ten minutes, Joshua is starting to have doubts.

Suddenly, there is a water-muffled screech and a flailing of tiny, furry limbs as the monkey begins to flounder in the freezing water.

Joshua and Stephen lurch forward and together they pull the tamarin from the pond. They set it down on the grass, where it sits, shivering and looking around wildly. And then, in an instant, it takes off into the trees.

Joshua cries out and stands, his legs aching from kneeling by the pond for so long. He forces them to move and he runs after the monkey. Stephen follows, the phone’s flashlight bouncing frantically over the trees.

It does not take them long to realise that they have lost the monkey. They stand, puffing, in the trees at the edge of Joshua’s property.

“Fuck,” Stephen says.

***

Two days later, Joshua stands beside the conveyer belt, readying himself to start work. He is adjusting his hair net when Stephen jogs up to him.

“Josh,” he hisses and thrusts a newspaper at him.

Joshua takes it, frowning. He looks down at the headline and feels his stomach drop.

Local Man Snags Exorbitant Reward; Miracle Monkey Back From The Dead

“’Authenticity confirmed by its numerical identification tag,’”, Joshua reads aloud. “’Sold for scientific testing.’”

Stephen nods. “That could have been us.”

They are silent for a moment, and then Stephen says, “You know, Jess works at the vet.”

Joshua raises his eyebrows. “And?”

“Well…she has to help with euthanisations, sometimes. And you know, I reckon some of those pet owners would pay anything for a second chance…”

They grin, and turn back to the row of salmon that is now sliding down the conveyer belt towards them.