Shark Bait

1.

A sharp radiating pain throbs throughout her head. The acrid taste of blood fills her mouth. Sally blinks and squints, but everything is dark, obstructed by a blindfold and a potato sack. As she tries to move she realizes she is tied to a chair.

Sally is suddenly confronted by the fact that her last adventure went horribly wrong. She had left her friends at a bar to break into a local warehouse she suspected of shark finning in the Cocos Islands.

She tries to focus her hazy memory to find what happened, how she ended up tied to a chair. Where am I? It is difficult to breathe let alone think, the potato sack is tied so tightly to her throat. What have you gotten yourself into?

A wobbly wooden door on squeaking hinges opens and slams shut. She jumps in her chair at the bang. “Who--who’s there?”.

The potato sack is roughly untied and removed from her head. More than one person is in the room loudly breathing, but nobody speaks. She hopes she is still in Nicaragua and stammers the one phrase she can think of in Nicañol “Estoy pelado como un maní (Don’t ask for money because I'm broke).”

The words hang in the air as the breathing continues around her. A strong smell of dead fish now penetrates her lungs.

Finally the silence breaks with a dismissive “Maje (bad person)”. Footsteps echo as the man circles her. She can feel his eyes and the disgust in his voice. The man spits at her feet. He continues to circle her, she now feels the cold steel from the back of a knife running along her skin and clothes.

She does her best not to tremble. Whatever happens, she will not give them the satisfaction of hearing her scream. He seems to sense this and leans above her face, mouth breathing. Disgusting.

She digs back in her mind to think of a beach in Costa Rica where she did her yoga training five years ago. It was where she first felt truly at peace. It was also where she fell in love with the ocean and all of its creatures. A calmness falls over her. She smiles.

Abruptly she is yanked back to the room as a vile warm tongue scrapes it’s way across her forehead. She lets a small squeal escape her lips and shakes her head from side to side, struggling in her restraints.

The man pulls back and laughs as the other two footsteps converge on him. They engage in a silent conversation of looks while she sits in muted rage, waiting for the outcome. It appears that decency has won out this time and the three begin to walk away. Small blessings.

The man stops, he spits on the ground in front of her, small bits of shrapnel landing on her naked feet and utters “Maje” one last time. They then continue out of the room.

As the door creaks its way shut behind the three people she begins to struggle again. She ignores the burn of the rope on her skin as it rubs away her flesh. Desperately she flails with every ounce of strength she has.

The chair begins to creak as she wobbles it back and forth. They have not only bound her hands behind the chair, but also tied her legs to the base of it at the thighs. If only she could somehow...the right rear leg on the chair breaks and she topples to the ground; still stuck, but now her face is in the dirt and hay that coats the floor.

Now completely stuck, she can only wait for the return of her captores. To keep her sanity she lets her mind wander back to the night at the pub.

2.

She had come to Nicaragua on an environmental mission. To help clean a portion of the Coast and preserve the natural habitat. She of course wanted more. She always wanted to do more.

There were five of them, Jesse and Bruce from Australia, Jenny from Canada, and Marge from San Francisco. Marge was a part of the same yoga studio that she belonged to and had come along at her insistence.

They all sipped on beer and rum as their various hopes and dreams in a dingy local bar. The kind of conversation only strangers can have with alcohol and a shared purpose. Of course she took it too far though.

Sally slams her beer on the table and proclaims loudly, “Sharks kill fewer Americans every year than vending machines do, and yet we still put those in every bloody building. Our schools and hospitals.”

Jesse, the harmonious one in the group attempts to pull the conversation back, “People kill themselves with vending machines. Sharks are beautiful and misunderstood creatures, but they do deserve respect as the Apex predator in the ocean.”

Sally laughs derisively, “Killer Whales are Apex predators too. Sharks don’t attack humans purposefully. It isn’t like they eat us. Sometimes they just get confused and take a bite. Compared to the hundred million or more we kill, the only true Apex predator is us.”

Marge desperately tries to derail the direction this is heading, “Please don’t get into shark finning again. It’s a cruel and terrible practice. Nobody ever argues that with you, but we are not going to attack fishing vessels like pirates.”

Sally won’t be stopped tonight, “I found them. Pretty sure I saw it when we were down by the docks. They are in a tiny warehouse on the far pier. We can post a live video, show everyone what’s happening. Take ‘em all down.” She looks around the table, each person avoiding her gaze as they nurse their drink. “Fine. I’ll go by myself then. Someone has to have some balls around here.”

3.

There is a slight creak of the door. Open and closed. She immediately comes back to the room, back to the chair, and the dirt.

A child whispers with an accent “Miss. Are you okay?” This hangs in the air for a moment as she contemplates her next move. There is no use playing dead though, a child is definitely not going to try to lift her.

She does her best to sound like she has just awoken, “I--I don’t know what happened. The chair just broke. Can you get someone to help me up?”

The child walks up to just in front of her. “Wobbly chair break when you rock it. My dad has your phone. This is a mistake. Please delete the picture and go.”

She rubs her face against the ground, exposing a small slit above the blindfold for her to see through. The room is still quite dark and she can only make out a small shadow as it dances out of her sight. The child can’t be much older than ten or eleven, but speaks excellent English.

From the shadows behind her he whispers again, “Please don’t do that. I don’t want you to see me.”

She decides to push the child, “Why don’t you want me to see you? You’ve done nothing to hurt me. If you untie me we can help each other.” Worth a try.

He whispers even quieter, “Please no. I cannot. My father--his worker hear you at bar. He follow and hit you in head. You American?”

She whispers back to him, “Yes I am American. It is very bad to take Americans hostage.”

He laughs at this, “You break into building in night. In American he could kill you. Here we may die now. You delete picture and go. I don’t want you to get my father in trouble.”

She resists the urge to be direct and loud. She chooses to continue the conversation in whispers, “I did bad. I did it for good. I was looking for shark fins in the warehouse. Fins gathered through murdering sharks, drowning them in the ocean.”

The boy begins to pace behind her, “Please delete. We no want trouble. One white person want fin, you no. My father just want good life for me. Spend money on education so I don’t have to fish. White people no care about us.”

She is taken aback. She tries to roll, but can’t move much, “I care about everyone and everything. I care so much it hurts. I don’t know your situation and I’m sure he has his reasons, but murdering innocent creatures is never okay.”

He stops pacing and laughs at her again, “Tell that to your cow and chicken. American man want shark fin for American people. Your hand as dirty as his.”

She is done whispering, “I’m vegan. I don’t eat meat and I’ve protested against their slaughter.”

He picks something up off the ground, “It is easy to have opinion with a full belly.”

She feels him begin to cut at the rope around her wrists. She remains still, but can’t hide her excitement, “Thank you. Thank you. I promise to help you in whatever way I can.”

He stops for a second, puzzled, “You help by deleting picture. Then we set free. Need hand to delete.” He continues to cut with the knife as she wriggles slightly to assist him. Finally the rope is frayed enough for her to slide her hands free.

She pushes herself back up on the three remaining legs of the chair. He places the potato sack back over her head and taps her on the hands with her phone, “You delete now.”

She laughs a little, “I’m an American girl, so naturally I’m quite good on my phone, but I will need to see to access anything. Also, I wasn’t taking pictures, it was a live video.”

Outside the room trucks can be heard pulling up and men yelling back and forth at one another. The sound of an automatic rifle firing is quickly followed by a scream. She can hear the boy begin to panic.

She pulls the potato sack off her head and removes her blindfold. She is in a small old barn with various tools scattered among bits of hay. She turns to see the boy cowering in the corner, tears coming to his eyes. “Don’t be scared. I’ll tell them you were setting me free. You were helping me.”

He looks her in the eyes, “You the real shark.”

The police rush into the barn with their guns drawn. They drag the boy from the barn as others begin to unite her. “He helped me. Please let him go.” Her pleas fall on deaf ears. Nobody says a word to her.

4.

Sally sits in a very bare office at the American Consulate. An unreasonably itchy blanket is wrapped around her shoulders and a coffee sits in front of her collecting bugs. A young man walks into the office, shirt and tie, very formal. He sits at the desk in front of her and looks at a file, “Don’t worry Ms. Johnson. Your captors have all been taken into custody and will face the Nicaraguan penal system.”

She quickly, desperately responds, “What about the boy? The one who tried to help me escape.”

The man flips through the few pages in the file, “Nothing here on a boy. Everyone taken into custody was arrested. Perhaps they let him go. Perhaps they’re trying him as an adult.” This hits her like a dagger to the heart. “There isn’t much information. Anyway, your flight leaves tomorrow morning. You are to remain here until then and be escorted to the airport.”

He stands up and looks at her sullen posture, “It’s alright Ms. Johnson. You’re safe now.” He walks out of the room.

She sits there staring dissociatively into her coffee as another bug flies into it and drowns. I am not a shark. I am something so much more dangerous...human.