Nikki's Song Pt. 1

My daughter Sophia, told me I shouldn't get on the flight, but, as usual, I'm all about work, and a no-nonsense type. I reassured her that it was perfectly safe, reiterated all the statistics I could remember about air travel being safer than most other forms of travel, gave her a kiss and a hug, and reminded her to feed the dog while I was gone. And NO wild parties.

She laughed, a mixture of annoyance and self-loathing, the way any 15 year old does when they know, in their particular social group, there was no way she’d be having a party, especially a wild one. Reluctantly, Sofia let me pull from her embrace and as I was walking through the terminal to get to my departure gate, I heard her call out; "Daddy! I love you!"

I raised my arm up high, letting her know I’d heard her, and that I felt the same way. She's my pride and joy after all. We have a connection no other father/daughter duo could ever hope for, which… can be annoying at times, but she’s the best thing that ever happened to me, which is saying something because, my life... is not anything how I thought it would be.

I'm a north Atlantic fisherman now. My job keeps me close to home, which is to say, my daughter Sofia is my first mate. She’s with me twenty-four hours a day. My wife, Nikki, comes to visit every once in a while, but when she does, she brings the kids and I don't get a lot of work done. When she’s with us, I mostly spend my time playing with our kids, throwing hoops and listening to Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan. Who would have thought she’d love his music so much? They all do. You know, fishing isn't as dangerous a thing as you might think, as long as you know what you're doing.

I never thought I'd be writing a memoir, but Sofia says I have to. It's not just the right thing to do, it's the ONLY thing to do. Reluctantly, I agreed to the memoir, but my penmanship isn't that good, so Sofia is handling the typing, the technical aspects of it. I don't much enjoy spilling my guts about stuff. Before the crash I mostly kept my thoughts to myself, other than the occasional “I love you” or “stay safe”, sort of thing. I always made time and made sure to speak with Sophia when I could, but she was about the only person I spoke with, freely. I made sure Sofia put that in there, right now. She’s typing this. (I am. He's being a real jerk right now. Stubborn. But… he'll understand in the end. Love you daddy.)

Sophia: Against all common sense, I've agreed to make this memoir in the format that my father wants, so it's going to be that of a fisherman's diary. Complete with dates and weird comments and everything. For specific reasons we’ve discussed in detail, I will not be including any drawings, maps, or doodles. None of that. I understand, I guess. Well, not really. “My objection was noted.” I guess this is just one more thing I gotta trust him on. Which is like most other things, but I gotta give it to him. He rarely ever lets me down, which is a good thing. Okay, here it goes.

Sometime in the 1980's my mother was killed in a car crash. I was in the car, dad was at work. He did investment banking. I think that’s what it was. All I know is, he was away from the house quite a bit, but we always had money. Mom never complained, and then, she was gone. I don't remember much but... Dad came to get me. He picked me up and… He was just crying and his eyes were so red… He just picked me up and hugged me for a really long time.

When we got home, he explained what had happened, to mom, and why she wouldn't be coming home again. That... was hard. The hardest thing in the world. It made accepting the rest of our lives a lot easier! I’ll tell you that. (I’m a ball of tears right now. Hold on.)

Okay, okay! Jesus.

1980's. Mom died. There! Is this how you want it? He's glaring at me now. Well, he'll get over it. Just imagine how you want it, and I’ll put it down that way! This is fine? Okay, fine.

1990's. High school allowed my dad to get back into his job, like, hard core. I spend most of my time with my friends, and the babysitter, who I thought was totally into me. What? You didn't know? Jesus dad. I had pictures of him in my diary! Ewww, not like that! Jesus! I’m never gonna get that picture out of my head! Good! Hope you suffer. Serves you right! LOL. Okay, okay. Uhhh, okay. He turned out to be a two faced ninnymuggins so, and... by then, I convinced dad that I was old enough to take care of myself. After a bunch of nagging, (convincing), he let me get an after school job, and a pager, just in case something happened. He always told me to send him a page if ANYTHING happened. Anything. Aaaa-nyyyy-thing. I never did. Funny his plane crashing wasn't important enough for him to page me. (I have to say, he's gonna laugh when he sees this. He's told me before. "There are no pay phones in the middle of the Atlantic!")

Okay! Jesus. You want it like some crime thriller? Ooookay!

August 4th, 1999. My dad boards a flight for Oslo Norway. He drags me to the airport because, now that I have my license, I can drive. He uses this as an excuse so he doesn't have to pay parking fees at the airport. He’s a cheap skate then. I've become his favorite chauffer. Drive slave. I didn't mind though. It got me out of school, I got some extra moo-lah for doing it, gas money, and... oh, he doesn't know this, but he will when he reads this! Every time he went flying off somewhere, I sat around the airport for the rest of the day, shopping and hanging out. That's where I met Miguel. Dad never figured it out, where he came from or how I got to know him. LOL. I’m not thinking about Miguel! I’m not thinking about Miguel. NOTHING!

So... August 5th, I still hadn't heard from dad. Okay, sorry. A lot of you reading this are going to wonder, or maybe not, what just happened. We had to turn around and let out the main line, and now we're just cruising along so the line doesn't tangle. We'll reel it in shortly. Fishing for garbage, my favorite thing to do! Anyway, where the heck was I? Oh, right. August 5th, 1999. So... I was expecting a phone call on the 4th, like, when he got to Norway, but sometimes it's too late and dad just goes to bed. Time zones are way different. Like, 6 hours ahead. So, if you leave the USA, Norfolk Virginia at noon, and it takes 12 hours to get to Oslo, when you arrive there, it's midnight in Virginia... it's like... 6 a.m. in Oslo. So honestly, I wasn't fully expecting a phone call at midnight. But when he didn't call at all on the 5th... then I was a bit worried.

It was still the 5th, and I was in school... I remember it was a Thursday and I was supposed to have science festival tryouts after school, and someone came into my Algebra 2 class and asked if I could come with her. It was one of the ladies from the front office. I got up, and she told me to make sure I had all my things. Oh shit. That meant I was not coming back to class.

First thing, well there was a lot of "first things" going through my head right then. NONE OF THEM involved my dad's plane crashing in the middle of the Atlantic, or some crazy hijackers, or any of that. What I thought was... my dad... maybe... got arrested for smuggling drugs?

WHAT!? I don't know! I was a stupid teenager with a dad that made beaucoup bucks! I didn't know what you did. Jesus' dad, settle down. So... it was either drug smuggling, or maybe he got drunk and got arrested overseas... Maybe he got... I don't know! That's my point dad. I didn't know. Okay, fine, enough about not knowing.

So, the lady that pulled me out of class, brings me down to my counselor's office, Mrs. Hawthorne. Now, I'm sure my dad doesn't know this part, otherwise he might have never allowed me to go back to school. So, I sit down and Mrs. Hawthorne says the police are here to question me. Instantly, yeah, I'm scared. So, she proceeds to question me, saying if I just tell her everything, then she can give the police the information, and she'll tell them, that I came to her, first thing this morning, and confessed everything, so It would look like I really, really, felt remorseful, and then they would show me lenience.

Of course, I didn't have a frigging clue what she was talking about, but that didn't deter her! She kept me in her office for like AN HOUR, up until the police actually forced their way past the front office and were like, gonna come arrest me, and then they found me in my counselor's office, and then, my counselor tells them, "Oh, she's awfully upset about what she did. She's... she was just about to tell me. If you could wait a few more minutes."

The main cop, the head cop, I don't know what you call them. The big one. He like, pushes Mrs. Hawthorne out of the way, and reaches out a hand and says, "we need you to come with us." Oh, man. Mrs. Hawthorne was super pissed, but neither of the cops seemed to care. They led me outside, asking me who I was and my name, birth date, where I lived, if my dad was home...

I thought I might actually be in trouble, but they were just making sure I was the right person. Then they put me in the cop car, in the front seat, and then they told me my dad's plane had crashed in the North Atlantic. They, the United States Navy, had ships in the water (where else would they be) and they were looking for wreckage and survivors.

Okay, dad wants me to tell some more from my point of view. So... the cops take me home, and drop me off with a business card. Apparently cops have business cards. Who would've known, right? So, they drop me off, and they tell me someone from child protective services would be calling. They said to hang tight, nobody knows anything right now, he could still be alive, never give up hope, all that. I'm just like... crying non-stop.

They leave. I call my aunt. No answer. I called my best friend, no answer. I called and ordered pizza, and then... I sat down and watched Pretty Women with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere, and waited for Pizza to arrive. No, that's about it. Not until you called.

Okay, so, now this is what happened to him. Back to August 4th. Noonish. His flight takes off. He says... okay, no. Look, it's either me telling what happened to you, or you can do it. Look, I'll turn us around right now mister! LOL. You used to tell me that all the time. "I'll turn this car right around!" Okay, no. YOU type, and then I'll come back through and spell check, grammar, etc. Yes. I'll turn your third-grade spelling into something better. At least fifth-grade, okay. No, no, I'll do a good job! Jesus. Alright, here's dad.

My name's Jostein Alexsander. I was on my flight to Oslo Norway when there was some sort of commotion, and then the plane made this jerk upwards, like someone pulled back on the reins of a horse, but it was the plane. And then, the plane started tipping forward, and we could feel the plane speeding up, and we were heading down. The lights were all on and blinking and masks on cords fell from the ceiling, everyone was grabbing frantically, and screaming. I could only think of one thing you know. Sofia. What was going to happen to Sofia?

At one point the plane turned upside down, and then I was just thinking, when the plane crashes, how will I get out? And then the plane slowed down, but it was still going fast, and then we hit the water. I never thought, we were going to hit the water. I guess I wasn't listening. It was like... the plane hit concrete. The sides bowed out, the ceiling came down and smacked some of us in the head, water gushed in from a hundred little spots, and then the front of the plane dipped down. People started screaming, those of us still alive. I got up and headed for the back of the plane. Someone opened a door or a hatch and we were going out and trying to climb up on the plane.

From the point where we hit the water, until the moment I was outside the plane, it was probably... twenty seconds. Maybe thirty. As soon as I got outside, it was like... darkness on top of darkness. There were some lights showing under the water, coming from the plane. There was something on fire on the other side of the plane I couldn't see. There were some people trying to find someone, a stewardess or someone who knew what was going on, and how we were going to survive. People were jumping in the water, people who didn't even know how to swim... and they were drowning, right then.

I knew how to swim. I made sure Sofia knew how to swim too. We can swim like fish... well, whales, right honey? I just asked her. She says yeah. Oh shit, that reminds me. Okay, it's off. Never mind. Okay, so, here I am, standing on a tail flipper of the plane. The wing, whatever. I'm just watching all this craziness, and the plane is going down. It's going down slowly but, it's picking up speed. There's a long white inflatable thing up towards the front of the plane. I think it's the inflatable slide, and it's drifting away from the plane. There's like twenty people on it, and I see other people swimming towards the thing, and then one person goes under. Yanked under. There's a bunch of splashing and everyone that can see anything, looks in that direction. Someone screams, "SHARK!"

It was like, at the point, everything sped up. The raft floating away, the plane sinking, the sharks attacking. People start swimming away from the raft, to get away from the sharks. People on the raft start kicking people away from the raft that are trying to climb on! I mean, people were not using their brains at all! At all! It was just people scared shitless. I look to my right, towards a woman who's got a huge gash in her forehead and she looks at me, wild eyed, like, as if I know what to do. The back hatch of the plane goes under. Two more people swim out, screaming for the people they're leaving behind, or looking for those already outside.

I glance to my left. a big guy, bigger than me, takes his jacket off. Why was he wearing a jacket inside an aircraft, I dunno, but he takes it off, and drops it. it tumbles and slides, I reach down and snatch it by the sleeve before it goes in the water. The big guy jumps into the water and starts swimming. The woman to my right looks hesitant, and then she turns around and sees something and screams. She turns back forward and jumps, legs flailing, arms going wild. She hits the water looking like a rat swimming for its life. She makes it about thirty feet before something jerks her under. She comes up, screaming, and goes under again.

So... what I know now, is vastly different from what I knew then. What looked like sharks, was not sharks. What it was, if anything, was jellyfish. I'll get to that in a moment. So, the plane is going down, and the tail wing I'm standing on, dips into the water. Ice-cold water. I keep standing there. I know, the longer I can preserve my core body heat, the better. I put the big guy's jacket on, zip it, cuff it, button and cinch it down wherever I can. The water is coming. I silently wish I'd worn different plants. The ones I have on are thin business attire, hardly any protection against the freezing temperatures. I bend over and tie my shoes tight, hoping it will keep my feet and the water in my shoes, warm, as long as possible. In doing so, I lose balance. I spill backwards and fall into the cold, cold, darkness.

Hmmmm, what is this?

I turn around, treading water slowly, the jacket is keeping me floating just a bit. I'm trying to do as little to move, to conserve energy and body heat, but still stay afloat. I'm looking for something to grab hold of, a life jacket or life ring, something. Eventually something will float by me, I just know it.

Is that... that's not one of ours.

"Who said that?" I ask out loud. There's something in the water, something that I can feel. I... It's hard to describe those first moments. It was like feeling words inside my brain, but more like... intent.

It made noise. It's not moving like the others. Is it dead? Should I try and move it toward the thick air?

I turn my head on my neck, and behind me I see a huge fin sticking out of the water. Huge, magnificent, black, with a little white on it. At first, first thing I think is, oh shit. I'm dead. But then, the thing, whatever it is in the water, I realize it's this thing, this owner of the fin, talking to me.

If it were dead, it would not think it was dead... Shweeen! Shweeen! I can hear this one!

I gasp. My heart freezes in my chest. Is it possible? A talking shark?

Not... a shark. The feeling I get is disappointment, maybe even the feeling of being insulted. The fin backs up from me, and then it raises into the air and tips back. The head, its head, comes above the water. It turns a bit and looks at me with one eye, one clear, seeing, eye.

“What the fuck!” I scream, and then think better of it.

What is that? The presence asks.

"You? Uh… Can you hear me?" I call out, awkwardly, and as best I can.

Ewwww, its barking now, like Eshaaaael does.

I'm not barking, I think to myself.

You can hear me? The thing speaks, and I know then, I know for sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I've gone crazy.

You're not crazy… But… You can feel my thoughts! …I can feel yours too!

No fucking way, I think. I’ve lost all fear of death now. I… I’ve gone crazy. I’m speaking to… something.

“What are you?” I say, and then I ask right away, “how is this possible?”

I’m Nae’wa. Sometimes, two beings can become connected. It is rare but, it has happened before. I can hear your thoughts.

You can? I think, and the Nae’wa’s head bobs up and down just a tiny bit. How is this possible? You're... you're a... not a shark.

We are ocean folk, Nae'wa. The last remnants of the great city, descendants of Atlantia.

“Atlantia? Atlantis! You're from Atlantis?” I’m treading water, and I’m super cold. I want to know more. I want to know where, and how, and who, and why, but I'm freezing to death. The water is so cold I can't even feel my legs anymore, but I know they’re still kicking. I put all thoughts other than those of Sofia, out of my mind. I need to keep swimming. I've got to stay alive for Sophia.

I can help you, I feel the presence and without me thinking a response, the thing comes forward and dips under the water. Next thing I know, I'm being hoisted up on its head, sideways, like a dead deer on the hood of a truck. The image of that actually flashes through my mind. I feel a sense of mirth come from my savior. It can see that. It, can see my thoughts, as well as hear them. As I’m lifted up, I see with my eyes, by feeble star light, and I know now, the thing that is saving me, is an Orca. A Killer Whale. Multiple images from my childhood and life zip through my mind.

We are killers. Hunters and killers. We train in everything we do. But mother, she is a caregiver too. In time, I will become a caregiver, but I will remain a hunter killer until my last breath.

That is a good thing, I think and I feel the orca agreeing with me.

Out of the water, I feel a bit of sensation returning to my legs. The whale beneath me slows and I gently turn myself to straddle the body, just behind the head. I wonder, for just a moment, if the thing will eat me.

No, it replies telepathically. Hold on. I feel the warning like warmth inside my mind, gentle, comforting, protective. We go from a gentle swimming to racing forward, as if I'm on a gently bobbing motorcycle at full throttle. We pass others treading water, and I silently think it would be amazing if we could save those people, or just get them to the floating slides. My mind touches that of the being below me, and it lets out a long series of squeaks and shrieks. Moments later, the water is filled with the thrashing of whales and humans. Some are too exhausted to fight their saviors, others take to feebly scratching or clawing at the whales, stupidly thinking they're being attacked, but their attacks are nothing to these beasts.

We approach the first thick air and I feel the need to turn and prod the craft back towards the others still in the water. We work as a team, moving it into place, and those on the thick air, see me, their mouths drop open, but they do not speak. Some bark at me, but I ignore their protests. My friends toss or roll survivors onto the thick air and let their fellows care for them. For a moment, I realize I’m thinking not like a human, but… more like the whale beneath me. It’s a strange feeling, an imperfect connection.

Do you want to go? Raw thought touches mine. My mind is sluggish because I’m so cold. I still can't believe any of this is real. I force my brain to think. I want to go… I do because I don't want to die, but at the same time, I don't want to leave this being. This magnificent being whom I have just only met. I can find you, it replies.

When? How? I think. I feel something deeper, more raw, more visceral. Her mind touches mine for the briefest of instants and I know. She is a female. Of course she is if she plans to become a caregiver like her mother. More than that, instinctual knowledge, quick vibrant memories and a history just enough for me to know what needs to be done, is time stamped into my brain.

I'll come back. I'll find you, I think and I wonder why I feel so strongly, besides being saved and being alive, why I need to come back… but I do. There’s no way I’m giving her up. Before I scramble forward, I feel a warmth inside of me the likes of which I have never felt before. Like holding my dear sweet Sophia for the first time. Like snuggling with my wife, Maria, when she was still with us. Like sitting next to a fireplace, staring into its depths, and just enjoying the world for what it is. Safe, peaceful, warm…

I realized then, I wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. There was no hurry to separate. I stayed at the edge of the floating slide and without trying to make it too obvious, continued my silent dialog with the one other being who could hear me without spoken words.

For days we communicated and it was like a constant learning process for both of us. I sent my thoughts whenever I could, every waking moment, and I absorbed as much as I could, desperate to learn… everything.

When morning light broke over the water, we took a head count and assessed the situation. I was quick to point out that the whales had saved us, and that they were not aggressive. People asked me how I knew and I lied to them. I told them I worked for an aquarium and I knew a lot about whales. When pressed, for more technical information, I told them I got fired and it was a long time ago. Some people accepted the information, others… I don't know, but for the most part, they believed me.

When the whales started bringing us stuff, nudging floating containers and pieces of debris closer to the floating rafts, people began to believe my words even more. We found a little food and our spirits were lifted, a tiny bit, but joy was not had by all. Some people cried constantly. Some sobbed uncontrollably for those they had lost. Other reflected on their shitty lives, and their equally shitty deeds. Some said this was what they deserved and god was meeting out their punishment for a life of sin. Others said this wasn't what they deserved. They hadn't done anything wrong. Why was this happening to them? The Nae’wa asked me what all the commotion was about. Why was everyone “barking” and I laughed, which… was not good, given the situation.

On the fourth day, a fight broke out over a bottle of water that someone had found floating nearby. Its new owner, the big man with the jacket, had found it and concealed it from the rest of us, trying to drink it when nobody else was looking. The problem was, we were all looking, all the time.

Eager to keep the peace, and make sure everyone didn't think I was completely bat shit crazy, myself included, I stepped in. I was also feeling the need to prove to the whale with whom I'd been silently talking, that we humans were not worthless sacks of pink flesh that deserved a cold watery death. I defended the man on merit alone. I convinced everyone that there were more bottles of water just floating around, but hidden. The key was, we needed to “coax” the whales into bringing them to us.

The words had left my mouth before I'd actually thought the thing through, but out of the freezing water, I was a bit quicker thinking. “Here, I’ll show you,” I said and I went to the water and put my hand into it. The feel of the icy coolness increased and intensified my connection with my unseen companion and I told her what had happened, and what we we needed. Moments later, the water began to churn and whales began surfacing all around us.

After some convincing, the big man gave me the water bottle and I quickly showed it to the nearest whale. A moment later, as one, the whales lifted their rumps and dove below the icy water. Long moments passed, and then minutes that dragged on. I gave the bottle back to the big guy before there could be any misunderstanding.

A woman, one whom I’d not spoke with before, stood up shakily and opened her mouth to say something, which I could feel was going to be directed my way, when a large splash of water erupted behind her, drenching her to the bone. She fell forward on her hands and knees, gasping. A moment later, her gasping turned to a cry a glee and she scrambled forward, snatched something off the raft, and clutching it to her chest, unscrewed the cap and began drinking.

Before anyone else could question, or ask, or argue, or shout, the water around the raft exploded with waves of water. Water bottles, their white caps and assorted plastic labels, came splashing onto the raft and one by one, people scrambled to grab them, uncap them, and drink themselves full.

The pod of whales stayed with us for a total of seven days, periodically delivering anything and everything that would float, to our side. Bottles of water became so numerous that we started a pile in the middle of the raft. A woman, I think it was the same one from before, drained her bottle, screwed the cap back on, and chucked it into the water behind herself. A moment later, she was rewarded with a giant face full of salt water and the empty bottle in tow. A moment later, I told the woman, she might just want to keep her trash on the raft since the whales would now bring us any bottle they found.

When I next put my hand in the water, laying back with my head on the edge of the raft, the Nae’wa had a message for me. Something was coming. An ocean tyrant. It held other humans and they knew we would be taken away.

A sense of urgency filled me then. I needed the whale who had helped me, to know, just how much I appreciated her help. I reached out with my feelings, the only way I can describe what I can do, what I could then, do… and I could feel the Nae'wa. Not just the one who'd saved me, but all of them, to some minor extent. I could only think-talk with the one who'd saved me, and I was pretty sure she could only think-talk with me.

When I felt the connection grab me, I sent my thoughts to her. An overwhelming sense of gratitude and thankfulness. Without their help, many more of us would have perished, drown or frozen to death in the icy water. I let her know, I was eternally indebted to her, and her people. I actually… I think it was right around that moment that I started thinking that whales were much more like humans than most people thought and the whale returned my own thoughts with an awkward feeling of happiness and understanding.

On the eighth day, a ship, a naval military cruiser, was seen on the horizon. People started standing up, waving their arms and screaming. The ship came straight for us. My conversation with my companion below the surface of the water became hastened and hurried.

They’re almost here. We’ll be gone soon. I’ll be going home to my daughter and… I’ll find out where we are right now. I’ll come back here when I can. Would that be okay?

A wave of intense happiness washed over me, as if it were the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. It was hard distinguishing my own feelings, my own happiness from hers. I vowed I would return. To what end, I didn’t know, other than… additional shared time and conversation… I’d never really spoke to many people, I wasn't one for talking, but this… this was more than talk. This was thought, and feeling, and emotion.

We go, came the thought and I looked up just in time to see the hulking warship turn. It circled us from a distance and the people became excited, wondering what was going on. The flag on the ship was American, but some people even questioned that, thinking maybe it was a trick. I stayed calm, as calm as anyone who'd just spent a week talking to whales, could be. Turns out, the ship circling us, eliminated much of the waves and allowed for the vessel to put smaller craft in the water. Three small watercraft with outboard motors attached, came quickly and grabbed hold of the raft and brought us alongside the ship. A moment later we were climbing up a thick net attached to the side of the ship, which led to the bottom of a set of solid metal stairs. As soon as I was on board the ship, it was like being a world away from the water. Solid ground. Solid.

A blanket was shoved onto my shoulders and then draped over me. A cup of something hot and steaming was jostled into my hands. “Welcome aboard,” someone said as they passed me, bringing more blankets and whatever it was I held. I turned, looking back out over the water and I found myself gripping the rail. I fought the urge, the need, to jump headfirst into the water. To go now, before it was too late, before… I didn't know what.

One of the crew clapped me on the shoulder, breaking me out of my trance. He told me I was lucky. I smirked in disbelief. He seemed to think this was a strange response, so he elaborated. He informed me that they'd called off the search. Nobody expected there to be any survivors, much less, most of us alive. We’d been drifting for days. We were hundreds of miles from where the authorities thought our plane had gone down. I heard one of the other crew members congratulating us on not becoming shark bait and someone, one of the survivors, instantly told the man of their own harrowing escape as the sharks circled us, picking us off, one by one. Nobody, not a single one of us, spoke up.

Over the course of the next few days, the ship was reassigned to ferry us to the nearest port. When we arrived, we were paraded off the brow to a fanfare of a thousand reporters. Banners and flags and ribbons and bows adorned every inch of everything. It was a celebration, a survival celebration.

Sharks. They all wanted the first bite, the bigger, better, juicier bite. Before we could get ten feet off the ship, a mod of reporters crushed in against a flimsily erected fence. They swarmed and lunged, sticking cameras and business cards in our faces. A rose was held out to me by a child whom I’d never met before. I took it and nodded to the girl who looked supremely pleased at my accepting her gift. Cards were shoved into my hands along side it and others were knocked from my fingers, including the rose. I bent down and picked it up, and then stepped back away from the reporters. Disgusting.

A few select others joined me in my efforts to not be accosted. We ignored every attempt to snatch our attention, give our names, speak or even acknowledge the feeding frenzy going on behind us. Little did we know, the real feeding frenzy was just beginning.

We may have crash landed in the water, and left floating for seven days, but we were stranded for far longer. We became lost on land, floating from place to place, debriefing to debriefing. Grievance counselors, survivors groups, military and aviation investigators, and of course “officials” looking to get the latest word and hold press briefings, came in a non-stop onslaught. For seven more days, we endured. It was almost as if we were being held prisoner for our personal accounting of what went on. I assume, sooner or later, the ones who were so eager to share their fantastic stories of personal triumph over certain doom, even they learned to just shut up so they could go home.

Finally, we were sent to the U.S. Embassy where we got new ID’s, passports, and we were immediately sent packing on a flight back to the United States where we got to endure the feeding frenzy of reporters and journalists all over again.

Most people jumped at the opportunity to get on the news, or do a guest appearance on their favorite talk show. There was big money in it for most. Money in exchange for an exclusive interview. Money in exchange for book and movie rights. Money for this, money for that. Money, money, money, money and more money. I was sick with it. Not sick of money, sick with the thought that money could overcome any loss, any feeling, any shred of humanity. Reporters and journalists hounded me day and night, even though I repeated time and time again, I wasn't interested. I had enough money for what I needed, which, was a strange thought you know.

I’d always tried to do the best for Sophia, but with everything that had gone on, it was hard. It was even harder listening to what she'd gone through up until the moment I came home. Of course, Sophia watched the news for days on end. When I got home and after the initial moments of joy and happiness had seeped away, she asked me questions until she was blue in the face. I answered very little. It's not that I didn't want to tell her, but I knew, if I said anything, if it came out wrong, or if I couldn't explain every detail, I'd be labeled a crazy. Clinically insane. That carried with it the possibility of being categorized as unfit to care for Sophia, so… I waited. I spoke very little of what happened.

My silence did not sit well with Sophia. She must have asked me a hundred times what happened and she got the same answer every time. “We crashed, we floated, and we got rescued,” is all I would say. She got quite angry when I’d get up and leave to go do something without telling her what I was doing, or where I was going. Needless to say, I was being really shady then, but I still couldn't tell her. She knew something was up though.

Sometimes, when we would sit and watch someone else giving their interview, and they’d make some stupid remark, Sophia knew they were lying before I could even give a smirk or huff. We watched quite a few of those interviews, not because I wanted to watch them, but Sophia did. The woman with the gash on her forehead, the one I thought had drowned, claimed to have directed everyone to safety, and deployed the slide/raft, and had the forethought to bring two containers filled with food and water onto the raft. I knew this was a lie, but she was declared a hero and received an award for her bravery and level headedness in the face of certain tragedy.

After a lot of nagging, I finally told Sophia the truth about what happened… or at least, most of the truth. I, conveniently, left out every detail about the whales, although I did mess up a time or two but used my “lack of detailed memories” as an excuse for my slip-ups.

The big guy, the one who'd taken off his jacket before leaping into the water... turns out, he was one of the pilots. I wondered about that. When we crashed, as soon as I was safe on the raft, he made it a point to demand that I give him his jacket back. After that, he went about ordering everyone to do this, or that, as if we were all under his command. At the time, I didn't give it much thought. And to think I stuck up for that jerk. In his interviews, he claimed someone attempted to hijack the plane, and he’d done the only thing he could do… I found it funny he didn't elaborate on exactly what he had done, you know, “to save us all”, but then the truth started coming out. Questions were asked. He almost had everyone convinced he was a hero until a report came out about some sensors messing up. The black box was recovered. The data was being analyzed. All of the sudden, people start playing the “he said, she said” game. I was done with it before it began, but Sophia was obsessed. She watched everything and relayed it back to me.

A federal investigation was hinted at, but never done. The FAA tried to sweep it under the rug, but with so many rumors abound, there was talk that the pilots were sleeping and the auto-pilot somehow caused the crash. Only at the last moment, did one of the pilots pull the plane out of the nosedive. That pilot, it was later determined, was not the big guy who'd survived.

When the numbers came out, I was shocked. Out of over three hundred passengers, there were less than a hundred survivors. Less than a third. Two weeks later, two bodies washed up on shore with life jackets attached. A sneaker with a human foot inside, washed up on some beach overseas. Officials said, with the temperature of the water being so cold, it inhibits bacteria growth and the release of gasses which would make a dead body float. They just assume the rest of the missing people are on the bottom of the ocean… The ultimate watery graveyard.

Six months after being back, Sophia and I had our first full-blown fight. She was really having a hard time and it turns out, it wasn't just me not talking about what happened, or how I survived… it was that, I was back, and she still had nobody to talk to about what she'd gone through. The emotional roller-coaster she’d encountered. What with me not talking to her about the crash, and my survival, and not talking to her in general, it just all came to a head. And, of course, rather than sitting down and talking to her about it, I grabbed my jacket and left.

As the space between Sophia and I grew in size, the ultimate goal that throbbed in my brain was coming closer and closer. I'd bought a deep sea fishing vessel. Hired a crew to fix it and then hired more people to make it the most sea worthy vessel ever made. Every time I left the house, I went down to the harbor and made sure everything was going along as planned. Periodically, I went to the water and put my hand into it, reaching out for that mental link and often, after long minutes of waiting and just… feeling… I would get a response. Longing and waiting.

After another… Oh, I don't know how many months… I barely saw Sophia. She was consumed by the rigors of high school and when I did see her, she was extremely terse with me. She didn't hate me, not yet, so I did have that going for me. I actually think giving her the freedom to be herself was a benefit. Heh. She says no. Well… the rift was there and I really didn't give it the attention it needed. Not right then. I had plans to though. I'd made up my mind. I was going to tell Sophia everything. All the details. I just… I needed to make sure she was going to be taken care of, and that she could take care of herself, in case… well… in case of anything I guess. I just had to do a few more things first. Less important things, but they had to be done.

While everyone else was going about their daily lives, self-absorbed and self-important, I was busy doing what I had to do. I never once stopped to question, why was I doing this? What was my ultimate goal? No. By day I went and helped fix the ship, install the latest sea faring technology, radar, sonar, radio, short wave, and more. I removed the fishing tackle, and replaced it with luxury items and accommodations for the crew. By night, I took courses on piloting a ship, reading maps, using sea fairing equipment. In between, I went to flea markets and libraries, read up on everything I could, bought maps, old weathered drawings and pictures of sea monsters.

It was as if I'd transformed into something I never thought I'd become. An old sea hermit. I adorned the walls of our two bedroom home with drawings and maps without explanation. I bought a sea dragon statue and put it by the front door. Sophia saw and commented on each strange addition with casual interest, and then gave me a quick update on what was going on with school.

I remember her telling me she was graduating soon. Her junior year. Next year she’d be involved in a lot of extra-curricular activities. She’d need extra money, and a gown. I remember looking at her and thinking, a wedding gown? And then, Oh my god, what have I missed? But when she said she planned to graduate with honors, I realized I’d only been half-listening. Half-listening, just like I was half-living my life. Half-being a parent. Half.

I told her that things were going to change, and change for the better. I was going to be better. A better parent, a better person, a better… friend. Sophia acted as if my statement was inconsequential, but I could see it in her eyes. She wanted that. She wanted it more than anything, but she wasn't willing to get her hopes up.

Looking back at it now, I feel like… for two years after my plane crashed, Sophia had lost me. She lost me, I lost her. We lost each other. I left myself in the water. I… I needed to go back, not for me, but for Sophia. I had to go back and get myself. I needed to find a way to put the thing in the water, out of my mind, or… I hate to say it now but, my plan was to come back whole, or not come back at all.

I stocked up on food, water, lifesaving equipment, and spared no expense when it came to the safety of my crew. Again, I told Sophia little of this other than, “I’ll be back”, before leaving each day. She’s a smart cookie though! She knew I was up to something. When I was finally ready to depart, I told Sophia I was going to do something, something that I had to do, and, with any luck, I would be back in a couple of weeks. This was the breaking point for her. She screamed at me until I finally broke down and told her, in awkward words that made no sense, I was going to thank the thing that saved me.

“What thing!?” She screamed.

“The whale!” I sobbed. “The whale. A whale. A killer whale saved us!”

I remember her face, this weird, shocked, bewildered, confused, sort of look. (I was NOT confused. I always knew something, someone or something, had saved them. All those stories those people told the news. They were so fake. Dad was just scared to tell me.) She stared at me for so long and then, she just hugged me. When she was done, she asked me to be safe this time, no crashes. Safer than last time. I told her I would.

The day before I left, I gave Sophia the name of the vessel, I told her what I was doing, where I was going, and all the details. I thought she would think I was crazy but, she accepted it all without any question. I gave her the name of a short wave operator she could go to, Freddy Gonzalo, who could radio me out on the open ocean, if she needed to get a hold of me in an emergency. She laughed and asked what I was going to do? Fly back? I laughed. She seemed so perfectly accepting that I was going off to do this wild and crazy thing that made absolutely no sense! I can't tell you how happy that made me. It was like the rift between us was gone. In a single moment, discarded and thrown to the wind. And then… I was off. I waved good-bye to Sophia, who stood on the pier watching me go, a huge smile on her face…

September 22nd, 2001. My first voluntary trip out on the Atlantic ocean, and as a boat captain / owner no-less. My crew, all green, save for my first mate, did their duty and kept the ship afloat, and we all learned a great deal in the first forty-eight hours. My first mate did an excellent job of steering me clear of certain doom, and whipping the crew into shape. He reminded me a lot of the old fishing Capitan from the horror movie JAWS, only with a lot less swearing, and a lot more men to order around.

October 1st, 2001. We hit the north wall of the Atlantic. If you want something to test your mettle as a man, this is it. The ocean goes from relative calm and mild climate, to insanely cold with waves as tall and the ship itself. Twenty, thirty foot on occasion. Thankfully, I outfitted the ship with the very latest in technology and made sure that even without any power, if the engines failed completely, the ship was virtually guaranteed not to sink. It might have been slow, and it might have been bulky, but the "Old Bloated Bologna" wouldn't be put down. Aye, that's what I called her. It's official too. My ship, the OBB.

October 10th, 2001. We finally came into the northern waters off the coast of Norway, just where I’d been plucked out of the ocean. I picked a spot, and we dropped anchor just off the coast in a hundred feet of water. My first mate thought I was crazy when I stripped off my clothing and walked to the fantail. He thought I was certifiable when I grabbed hold of the aft ladder. After a moment of me trying to convince him that I wasn't crazy, yet not giving him the real reason behind my actions, I set on the weirdest lie I could fathom. “You can't be a sailor, master of the ocean and seas, if you're afraid of the drink.” The drink it what we call the water. I told him I was going to a quick swim, nothing more. Reluctantly, he accepted that.

The water was as cold and as icy as I remembered, and after the initial moment or two of shock had passed, I reached out with my mind, my sense of self, my self-awareness. I arched my back and inhaled deeply, floating, and closed my eyes. I put my head back even further. Water washed through my hair and covered the top of my eyelids. I thought about the whales, specifically, the one who’d saved me, the one who I thought I could communicate with. I thought long and hard, and then, right when I thought I might doubt my sanity once again, something whacked me in the face. Muffle shouts came to my submerged ears. I looked up and blinked against stinging salt water to see a gaff hook being shoved in my face. It was Jacob, my first mate, and he was telling me to grab it. “GRAB IT!” he shouted again. I did. I grabbed it and held on for dear life.

Turns out, even if you mean to do something simple, you can still do it completely wrong. My lips had turned blue. I'd become unresponsive. If I'd stayed much longer in the water, I would have frozen to death. Jacob had saved me. I thanked him profusely, but I also made it clear, I intended to go back in the water the next day. Jacob angrily stormed off and a few moments later he brought back a heaping pile of equipment and slammed it on the captain's table in front of me. "Do it right!" he yelled, "or I'm off the ship!"

October 11th, 2001. Wearing a wetsuit, flippers, webbed finger gloves and with an oxygen tank on my back, Jacob taught me how to dive, and how to scuba, the right way. We spent a bit of time in the water, just going up and down the anchor chain, and then Jacob said we should head to shallower water if I really wanted to see some cool stuff. I declined, saying I wanted to stay here, right here, for the moment. I liked the place. It had, sentimental value. When my entire crew grew skeptical about my reasoning, I finally explained that it was here that my plane went down, just two years prior. I didn’t give them any other explanation, and they didn't ask for any.

As I sat there, floating, thinking, feeling, I wondered what they, the crew, must be thinking. The prospect of finding the downed aircraft was near impossible. The thought of diving to the bottom, only to find it littered with frozen slowly decomposing bodies was too morbid, to say, or do. It was not my intention. But just mentioning the plane crash, and that I had survived, was enough to satisfy their own questions and halt them from asking any more. I have to say, I was very naive and I hadn't payed that close attention to the news. Had I been any different, I would have known the plane had already been fished out of the ocean over a year prior. The bodies were, no doubt, already eaten by the myriad of ocean life. Had I dived down, I would have found very little, if any, trace that a plane had gone down here, not to mention, this was where we’d drifted to, not where the plane had actually smashed into the ocean.

As my third tank ran low, and knowing I would need to get out of the water soon, I reached out with my feelings and simply thought into the ocean, I’ll stay as long as I have to. I’ll be here.

October 12th, 2001. As soon as I awoke, I felt something was different. It was her! The presence was back and I hurried to get ready. I ate light, chugged some strong black coffee and got into my wetsuit as quickly as I could. When I stepped out onto the aft deck, Jacob was sitting there, enjoying the morning fog on the water. He was casually puffing away on a pipe and when he saw me, outfitted and ready to go into the water, he smirked. He said I might want to reconsider. It was still early and it was feeding time. There were sharks and killer whales about. I ignored his warnings, went right to the rail and gave him a one finger salute. A real salute, not the middle finger. I lowered myself into the water and Jacob watched me go. He had this weird look on his face, as if he half expected it of me.

As soon as my foot touched the water, I felt a jolt, like electricity, shoot up my leg. I almost pissed myself even though I'd just went before putting my wetsuit on. I quickly lowered myself into the water, and then pushed away from the ship and let myself slowly sink beneath the surface. I grabbed the regulator and stuffed it into my mouth and then blew the water out before sucking in a breath. It was still dark, but I didn't need to see. I reached out with my hands, and my mind.

There you are. Oh, it's been so long...

Oh! You're close. Where are you? I thought.

Open your eyes. You're being silly.

I did and I saw a huge dark spot in the water, directly in front of me. She was huge, at least six or seven times the size of my body and her markings were distinct, like racing stripes on a black race car. That's the nicest thing to think, she thought back.

Oh, uh, sorry. It's kind of strange when you can hear... I mean, when you can read someone's thoughts.

Don't worry about that one. He's been with the water for a very long time. He doesn't have the ability, but he knows enough to not deny others the gift.

Who? Oh, Jacob? Jacob knows? I wondered why she was thinking about him.

He knows as much as he can. He understands.

So, we're safe here? I thought.

Yes. My family will protect us from anything that may wander into this area. I've asked them for a bit of privacy. Her word "privacy" implied much more than a simple security of words. She didn't want other whales watching what she was doing either. I've been learning as much as I can in our time apart.

Oh? About what? I thought. My mind instantly went to ruder more animalistic thoughts and feelings and I tried to blank my mind.

Silently she moved closer, closer until I couldn't help but reach out and touch her body. You are human. Came the thought to my mind. The form we once used to walk upon the surface world. We are interchangeable. We are connected. This allows us to communicate in some rare and special circumstances. We can share thoughts, words, emotions, feelings.

So... we can talk, I mean, think, because you... you were once human? My mind envisioned a woman with skin like darkness, white stripes and markings on her sides. A wave of intrigue washed over me.

No. Not me. I have always been of the water, but... It is easier to explain if we share our thoughts and memories. Do you desire this?

I hadn't come all that way to feed her fish or swim around looking at the ocean bottom, if that what she was asking. I felt a wave of giddy happiness and then I saw, inside my mind, me placing my face against the side of her head. Is… Is that what you want me to do?

Umm-hmm.

I took a deep breath and then slowly pulled my face mask off. The water was icy cold on my nose and eyes. I leaned forward and pressed the side of my face, near my temple, against her rubbery skin, and then, I was there. It took a single moment of time. It was like leaping through space, faster than the speed of light. All of the secrets of the oceans were revealed. Every place she'd ever swam, every predator she'd ever dispatched, everything she'd ate, every other whale she'd ever interacted with, their habits, their markings, their mannerisms. Everything.

Vast amounts of information poured into my brain like a gallon of water sloshed into a bucket. Ocean tyrants, naval ships, fishing charters, cruise liners, cargo container ships, submarines, anti-submarine nets, mines, sunken ships, ocean floor rifts, the deep abyss. Every danger of the ocean poured into me, along with an inherent and instinctual apprehension attached to each thing. Don't eat this, stay away from this, don't go there, don't touch these, beware.

I tried to focus on human interactions, but it was a total and complete transfer of knowledge, like a lightning flash in my mind. The information was so overwhelming, so complete, so unobtrusive, yet so ingraining, I grabbed the regulator out of my mouth and took a breath of icy cold salt water.

STOP!

I did. I slowly forced the salt water out of my mouth and closed my lips. I opened my eyes and the cold of the water was so intense and piercing, it was as if I was pressing my eyeballs against ice. The sting of the salt was… tolerable. I did stop. I stopped, and I stared, enduring for the chance to look upon her.

Put the… regulator, in your mouth. Now breathe.

With the tense moment passed, I felt her giggle in thought as I did what she asked and then thanked her for it. Yet again, she’d saved me, this time, from my own stupidity. Silently I felt the prompt to put my face mask back on. I squeezed my eyes shut and did so, and then blew out through my nose to expel the water out the bottom of the mask.

It took me a few long minutes to process the information I’d received and from her mental silence, I assumed she was doing the same. Once she was done, I felt a wave of emotion so strange, so overwhelming that it almost made me crumble. Humans are destroying the oceans!

I know! I cried out, both into my regulator and in thought. I felt my insides twist, yet, I also knew, there was hope. All of the things she had encountered, all of the trash, the plastic, the garbage, all of it... My mind turned back to the moment when Jacob and the crew had washed the pots and pans with detergent and dumped it overboard. A flash of garbage, bags and plastic zip ties floating through the water, entered my mind. Jumping backwards, my mind remembered the Naval vessel that had taken us survivors onboard had dumped hundreds of bags of trash off the fantail, and just in the short amount of time I'd been onboard. Soda cans, plastic bottles, plastic bags, batteries, huge balls of garbage falling to the ocean floor. My mind whirled. The number of planes that dumped their contents over the oceans from thousands of feet in the air. Billions of gallons of water and putrid waste. Trillions, all contaminated with toxins, garbage, urine, plastic... But there was still hope.

Her mind touched mine once more. Not in a sharing of thoughts, or our entire history of being, but in a moment of comfort. I felt her inside of me, protecting me, settling my mind. We can change the future, she thought and I nodded. We would change it. I would change it, starting now.

You… you have a name, I thought. I listened to the way the other members of her family called out to her, over and over again, in memory. Niiii-kiiii. Nee-kee. Nikki.

Nikki, I thought.

She laughed inside my mind. My interpretation was crude but close enough. I reached out, gently touched her side, feeling her skin with the tips of my fingers. I found myself wanting to think of so many things, so many special beautiful things, but then, she surprised me with a single thought. I know. The acknowledgment, came with every ounce of emotion, deep-hearted beautiful sharing of experience, it was as if my heart stopped and restarted. I took a deep shuddering breath from my regulator and thought, there was no way I was going to leave this behind. No way I was going to leave her, behind. I had to find a way. Some how. Some way. An underwater refuge. An aquatic home like what they showed in those science magazines about the future…

It is time, came the thought to my mind and I felt Nikki backing away from me.

No, wait! I reached out, but she did not heed.

She sent a message to me, told me it was time for me to go. She needed to eat and I needed to eat as well. I needed to get warm again. I needed to be… whole. That wasn't the strangest thing however. Before she swam away, she wanted me to think of her, but the her she was pushing to me, was not her, Nikki. It was a different her… Sophia.

Even as the question formed on my lips, thoughts of Sophia came to the forefront of my mind. Her vivid smile. Her amber brown hair that she liked to say was red, but really wasn’t. (It is!) The way the edges of her eyes angle down but, moments before she smiles they go up, as if her eyes are smiling in advance.

Think of home, Nikki sent her last thoughts to me. Think of home, think your course. Think. Think. Think. It was the strangest thing but a very specific and peculiar request, and I did. I thought of it, and then… she was gone, back into the depths of the ocean dark.

When I got back on board, Jacob and the rest of the crew were waiting for me. It was dark already and they said they weren't happy with what I was doing. Jacob hadn't been very forthcoming with information either. They thought they'd be fishing, or diving, or whaling, something.

“We will never be whaling!” I shouted at the man before realizing what I was doing. I calmed myself and then continued, “we’re not here for sport, or fun, or whatever you thought you’d be doing. You’re here to work. To earn a paycheck. Isn’t this easy enough for you to do? Is the work too hard?”

None of the men looked like they were satisfied with my answer.

“Idle hands,” Jacob said, defending the men’s positions without directly blaming me. It was the situation. They had nothing to do. Preventative maintenance was not enough. Laying about with nothing but “off” time was not conducive to the crew’s morality. They needed to be a part, to feel like what they were doing, meant something.

“Gather the crew below deck. I want to have a meeting,” I said, and Jacob went about issuing orders to the men. Once we were in the galley, I sat down and told them all, our new mission.

Whatever we were her for, prior to this moment, it was changed now. I used my oracular second sight and knowledge to tell the crew just what was going on. “Pollution is rampant in the ocean. You’ve all seen it. Well, now we’re going to do something about it.” A few of the men grumbled but I wasn't going to let them deny it. “The water here is the cleanest I’ve seen, and that’s saying something.” I made sure not to mention things like airplanes crashing in the ocean, although, in my mind I was thinking, how much jet fuel had made it into the water? How was the marine life responding to an entire airliner being dumped here two years ago? Dead bodies? Chemicals? Contaminants?

Instead I shifted my focus to things we could control. I made sure to mention how many bags of garbage the Navy dumps into the ocean on any average given day. How many times we, ourselves, dumped into the ocean. I made sure they all knew, each and every one of us had been at fault, myself included. I told them I was planning on making a difference. I was going to change the way things are done. If they wanted to remain onboard and get paid, then I expected them to keep the ship in tip-top condition, to do all the preventative maintenance, and to find as many ways to keep everything we created as a byproduct of anything else, out of the ocean. When I was done, I made one last offer. Anyone who felt this was not something they were interested in doing, could be dropped off at port. I was happy to see there were no takers.

October 13th, 2001. I entered the water but I had a feeling, before my skin ever touched the surface, Nikki was gone. Not just that she was out of range somehow, but that she was completely gone. She was not coming back. Not now… possibly not ever. Never again.