Barren Waters, A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival
Chapter 2

But in a way you can say that after leaving the sea, after all those millions of years of living inside of the sea, we took the ocean with us. When a woman makes a baby, she gives it water, inside her body, to grow in. That water inside her body is almost exactly the same as the water of the sea. It is salty, by just the same amount. She makes a little ocean in her body. And not only this. Our blood and our sweat, they are both salty, almost exactly like the water from the sea is salty. We carry oceans inside of us, in our blood and in our sweat. And we are crying the oceans in our tears.

—Gregory David Roberts

Chapter 2

Fifty-five years prior

She slipped her hand into his and grasped it firmly. “Olivia Abner. Pleased to meet you.”

“Liam Colt. So this is your boat?”

With fondness, her eyes swept the Goblin’s vast silhouette. For a support ship, she was impressive, a sleek catamaran with an aluminum hull and wave-piercing bow. Olivia pointed toward the center of the stern where a large crane was suspended over a hangar. A two-man submersible, attached to length of cable, was secured to a winch by a heavy steel hook.

“Nope. Not mine. She’s a loaner from the institute. She’ll take us to the drop point, where we’ll board the Savior III. We’ll descend about ninety feet, give or take.”

“Ninety feet,” he repeated nervously, fumbling the files in his arms. “Okay. No biggie. I can handle ninety feet.”

His hand moved to the back of his neck. If he were holding a kerchief, he’d be pressing it to his skin, like a preacher behind the pulpit on a hot summer day. Smiling, she gently touched his arm. “That’s right. I forgot. You’re not used to this. You’re a lab geek from D.C., aren’t you? Ever been in a submersible before?”

“Back in college. Older models though. Nothing as agile as this appears to be. But I consider myself one of the cool geeks, thank you very much.” He seemed to relax as he turned to face the sun-glistening water. “I typically work the sidelines, crunch the numbers, that sort of thing. I’m usually analyzing samples in a lab, but these days…well.” He sucked in a breath. “These days, I go where I’m needed, I suppose. These days, I try to check as many things off my bucket list as I can.”

She nodded, unable to respond to that. These days, she tried not to think of her bucket list, though maybe she should. “Okay, cool geek. Works for me. Welcome aboard. Let’s talk schematics.” She turned and held out an arm, inviting him to board the Goblin’s wide transom.

As he approached the craft secured to the crane, his eyes became round as saucers. “Beautiful vessel.”

“She is—light too. She’ll take us down swiftly. Nothing to worry about. We’ll be topside again before you know it. Let me assure you, Dr. Colt,” she added, stroking the smooth metal as she would a cherished pet. “The Savior was designed for robust missions—much more robust than this will be—and at much greater depths, I might add. So don’t worry. She’ll have absolutely no problem transporting the two of us.” Olivia turned to a tanned man behind her, in white linen pants and a faded Pink Floyd T-shirt. “I’d like you to meet our captain for the day. Liam Colt, meet Captain Steve Pryon.”

She watched the captain shake the scientist’s hand, her eyes traveling over his inappropriate clothing. He certainly wasn’t a seaman. He’d worn jeans for one. Olivia hated jeans. What horribly constricting garments they were, nothing more than attractively cut straight jackets for the legs. She’d never be caught dead aboard a ship wearing jeans. She much preferred khakis or loose, billowy linens. He’d also worn flip-flops, she noted with a frown. An experienced seaman would never wear flip-flops. Sneakers were better. Bare feet were best.

Other than that, she supposed he was handsome. He was pale, for sure, perhaps a little stiff. But his eyes were warm, and his hair…well…unique. Were it not for the topknot, crowning his head, she may have pegged him as somewhat uptight. These days, wasn’t that called a ‘man-bun’? She smiled. Maybe not a geek after all.

He plucked a Dramamine from his pocket and slipped it into his mouth. Great, she sighed. This should be good. She gave the captain a meaningful look. “Steve, we’ll stay topside, if that’s okay. Out in the breeze. Keep it fresh.”

“Aye-aye, Liv,” He tipped his cap. “Be ready in ten.”

She led the scientist toward the bow and sat opposite him on the sofa-style seating. “So, tell me if I’m understanding this correctly. You’ve commissioned this vessel to take samples of the dead zone.”

He laid his files across his lap, visibly trying to calm himself. Clearly he wasn’t comfortable at sea. “I haven’t commissioned this vessel, per se. My employer has. I’m here at the behest of Washington D.C., the D.C. Institute of Marine Sciences, to be exact.”

“You’re a government employee?” she asked incredulously. With a raised brow, she examined him anew. There was no way in hell she was buying that story. His style was too laid-back. Tiny rips and snags ran the length of his jeans. He certainly didn’t look like a government agent.

“I said I was here at their behest.” He waived a hand. “I’m not officially on the payroll. They’ve sent me to obtain water samples at various depths, to test my replaceings, and to then report back. Typically a dead zone collects at coastal areas, at the mouths of rivers or other waterways. They’re caused by runoffs carrying fertilizer, sewage, and other industrial pollutants. These, in turn, cause phytoplankton blooms, which use up all the available oxygen in a given area, creating a dead zone for all wildlife—”

“I know what dead zones are,” she interrupted him smoothly.

He coughed and smoothed strands of hair from his face. “Right. Of course you do. I won’t dumb it down. I’m here to test this area for several specific elements, particularly nitrogen and phosphorous.”

“That all?” She raised a skeptical brow. “Nitrogen and phosphorous? Nothing else? Not checking for sudden increases in oxygen?”

He blinked. “What exactly do you do, Miss Abner? Or is it ‘Mrs.?’

“It’s Ms. or Olivia, if you prefer, and I’m not just here as your escort, Dr. Colt. I’m also a biological oceanographer.”

The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. “So I guess you’re the brawn and I’m the brains.”

She shook her head. “That’s a common misconception. We’re actually more alike than you’d think. You study the elements and properties of seawater, and I study the forms of life that make that water their home.”

He nodded, casually crossing one ankle over the other. “You’re right, I suppose. Though sometimes I admire what you do more than what I do. I’ve never been much for fieldwork myself. To be honest, I’ve never been much of a seaman, though I happen to love the sea. Go figure.” He lifted his shoulders, humbling himself. “I chose a rather ridiculous profession for myself. Man suffers from seasickness then makes the sea his life’s work. But I’ve made it work for me. That’s what counts. I get to do what I love to do, and I get to make it my own.” He cocked his head. “Still jealous of you, though. My lab is a white-walled building of concrete and steel, full of chemicals and test tubes. You get all of this.” He gestured toward the water then lifted his face and squinted into the sun. “Whatever all of this has become, I suppose.”

Sitting back, she tucked her legs beneath her, and looked him straight in the eye. “Are you able to level with me, Liam? Are you here to evaluate the recent Hail Mary? Are you here to see if they’ve fixed this disaster?”

“They?”

“The government, of course”

“Oh. Them.” He peered across the peaceful waves, eyes unfocused, as if he could see something she couldn’t. “It’s not so much a Hail Mary, Olivia. The science is actually sound. A few months ago, in an attempt to stimulate life, they installed the oxygen pumps. And if you stop to think about it, it’s quite a feat of geoengineering. If it works at the mouth of the dirty Mississippi, it might actually work at much larger sites. Think of the implications.”

“Oh, trust me. I am. Don’t get me wrong. I agree with you. It is quite a feat of modern science. The implementation of it doesn’t bother me. It’s the timing that sucks. They always get that wrong.” She tilted her head. “Their attempts—at the beginning of the twenty-second century, to reduce the amount of waste being dumped into the river—failed, so now, they’re turning to technology. Don’t you replace that a little insane? That a species as intelligent and resourceful as ours can’t see fit to attack the problem at its source?”

“Can’t see fit to, or won’t?”

“Touché. And you elegantly made my point for me, Dr. Colt. As a species, we’re excellent at treating the symptoms, yet we shy away from examining the cause.” She sighed and folded her hands. “So, that’s what you’re here to do, isn’t it? Treat the symptoms. Take the samples. See how well we’re managing the problem.”

He laced his hands over a knee. “I’m here to test for signs of improvement, and to report my replaceings to D.C.—that’s all. May I ask what you’re here to do—besides pilot the submersible, of course.”

She shrugged. “Same as you, though not officially. Today, I’ll be taking a few samples of my own.”

“And what do you expect to replace, Ms. Abner?”

She met his gaze and then quickly looked away. “I don’t expect to replace anything, really. I expect the ocean to be as dead and empty as it’s been for a decade.”

With that, she stood and checked her watch. “Time to go. I need to check in with the captain.” She pointed. “And you need to change into your wetsuit.”

“Wetsuit?” he groaned. “We’re going into the water?”

“Of course not. They’re strictly precautionary.”

Again, her gaze crawled over his attire and she found herself stifling a grin. “I’m sorry, but you’re not descending these waters in my boat wearing jeans and flip-flops, Dr. Colt.”

He watched her rise from the white leather sofa, and tracked her as she moved toward the stern of the boat. A biological oceanographer? Her? She certainly didn’t look like a scientist. At least not any he’d seen recently. Straightening, he slid to the edge of the bench, and peering over the side of the boat, examined the water lapping the hull. All of this is for show, he thought dismally. It’s all just a waste of time. But show or not, he’d do his part. He’d take his samples. He’d do as he was told—not that he expected anything to have changed. He agreed with Olivia—though he hadn’t said as much. Her point about the timing was apt. How had she so eloquently put it? Oh. Right. That the timing had sucked. She was right. It was simply too late, and everyone knew it.

He remembered a time when the dead zones were seasonal. They would appear toward the end of spring and dissipate in early September, when the tropical storms swept ashore. But that was over a decade ago, and everything had changed in such a short amount of time. Now the dead zones covered a much larger area, so many square miles that they were present year-round. There were hundreds of them now, over 2,000, to be exact, and they weren’t even the ocean’s deadliest problem.

He rummaged his files and for his pH graphs. While on this excursion, he would test for something else. He was eager to study the oxygen levels, but also the water’s acidity. In his office, he’d examined countless reports, but he wanted to take his own samples firsthand. The oceans faced myriad attacks. Scientists like Liam were looking for markers, specific signals that would herald the end. He hated acting like pessimist, of course, but for a long time now, he’d known what was coming. He’d read the signs and interpreted the data. The oceans, simply stated, couldn’t be saved. Things were well past the proverbial tipping point—so far, in fact, that he’d started making plans. Detailed plans. Long-term plans. Plans that involved multiple lists, and supplies, stockpiles of food, and bottles of water.

He’d even settled on a specific place, high in the Tennessee Mountains. It was secure and secluded, surrounded by acres of uninhabited forestland. He’d even purchased a cabin in which to live, a comfortable home at the top of a rise, a cozy lodge with a bird’s eye view, where one might sit and watch the end of the world.

“Liam?” Olivia called out. “We’re ready.” She held up a wetsuit, at which he groaned, but begrudgingly took below deck. Dressing quickly, he tried to calm his nerves, though his stomach was still tied into knots. He’d never seen a dead zone up close before, much less from ninety feet below the surface. It was exhilarating, to say the least, though terrifying, too. Gallons of emptiness, pressing atop him, curtains of blackness, a cold dead tomb full of bones and teeth: the anticipation was making him nauseous.

Olivia, on the other hand, was strictly business. When he returned topside, she offered her hand to help him climb into the submersible. She talked through various safety precautions and emergency procedures. She was patient, possessed of a calm bedside manner, and he barely noticed when the winch began to turn, until the submersible dipped below dark cloudy waters. A thick glass dome offered panoramic views of miles and miles of empty water. He watched it crest the top of the dome and forced himself to relax. This was a superb craft, he told himself, as he settled onto his black leather chair, and Olivia, of course, was an accomplished pilot. She was obviously comfortable in front of the controls. Despite his anxiety, he willed himself to breath evenly.

“I suppose—first—you’d like to collect samples at about thirty feet?”

Her voice crackled through the headphones, making him jump like a frightened schoolgirl. Shuffling his papers, he fumbled for the volume control. Dear God. He needed to pull himself together. He wiped his palms against the slick rubber of his suit, nearly laughing out loud at his foolishness. How ridiculous he must seem to her. He was a chemical oceanographer, for Pete’s sake, a lifelong professional, a man who had always he loved the sea. It was, in his opinion, the planet’s last uncharted territory. Forget deep space or the frozen Antarctic. Ocean life was largely undiscovered, and as alien as anything a Hollywood makeup artist could ever create.

He breathed to a count of ten then scrutinized his surroundings. The yellow glow of the submersible’s lights cast a peculiar green haze to the environment, yet failed to reveal signs of life. The waters were barren and cold, save for small fragments of plant and debris, which spun with the movements of the tides—and the propulsion of the oxygen pumps, he presumed.

He peered at the depth gauge. Twenty-eight feet. An involuntary shudder shook his body.

Olivia placed a hand on his knee. “Everything all right?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s fine. It’s just a strange feeling, is all. It’s actually quite uncomfortable. Eerie to see it in person, I suppose. There’s absolutely nothing down here. It’s dead. It’s a giant tub of water we can’t drink.” He gripped his armrests and peered into the abyss. “There’s nothing here at all. It’s astounding. Look at this place. What have we done?”

Her voice was distant, her words edged with sorrow. “I know how you feel. It’s inconceivable. We’re piloting a craft through a giant bathtub. We may see a jellyfish or two, if we’re lucky, but other than that, this world is extinct.”

Leaning forward, he peered into the vast field of water. Endless and deep, it was an immense and massive maw, pressing onto them from all sides. The absence of life—in a strange sort of way—was more frightening than an underwater zoo could ever be. A nervous laugh bubbled from his lips.

“I feel like I’m starring in some lousy Jaws remake, like at any minute, a giant shark will come swimming out of the blackness to attack the sub.”

“Trust me, Liam. That’s not going to happen. There haven’t been sharks in this part of the ocean for at least a decade, no fish for longer than that.”

“Olivia, tell me. And please—be honest. In your opinion, are the oceans beyond saving?”

He bit his lip. Why the hell had he said that? Why did he have to be such an alarmist? No, he thought. Alarmist was kind. He was pretty sure he’d just sounded like a kook. He didn’t want to bum her out, or sound like a crazed doomsayer wearing a tin foil hat. He’d never believed in outlandish conspiracy theories. He just wanted to hear her opinion on the matter, the opinion of someone objective and learned, someone with a background similar to his own.

She turned to him suddenly, caught him by surprise. How attractive she was, he marveled again, her face silhouetted in soft cerulean light. Her reply was soft and rich with emotion. “Unfortunately I do, Dr. Colt.”

“Liam, please.”

“Unfortunately I think we’re past the point of no return, Liam. But I don’t think it was one thing or another. It was a perfect storm of events, so to speak: the collapse of the Berkut oil platform, the increased levels of CO2, the pollutants, the contaminates, and the resulting acidification of the oceans.”

She returned her gaze to the waters beyond the glass. “Think of it, Liam, of the political stage. China had become one of the world’s most powerful nations—if not the most powerful nation—of our time. It nearly took the baton from the United States. A mere turn of fate handed the reigns back to us, a mathematical calculation they somehow got wrong. To put it simply, they overfished their waters, which resulted in three quarters of their population starving to death. And it was the same in Japan, South Korea, and parts of Africa, too. Add to that the destruction of the world’s coral reefs, and well…it was too much to bear. The death of the reefs set off a chain reaction, and the rest is history, so to speak.”

She was right. “It all began with the extinction of the whales.”

“Yes,” she said. “It did. Well, to be clear, it began with the plankton. But for the sake of argument, we’ll go with the whales.”

With a final look at the submersible’s controls, she diverted his attention to the craft’s metal appendage. “Okay. We’re here. We’re suspended at about thirty feet. That mechanical arm will gather our samples. After that, we’ll descend another thirty more feet.”

He watched her work and admired her skill, the dexterity of her fingers as they traveled across the many buttons and levers. He hadn’t meant to discuss the extinctions, but there was something about her demeanor that calmed him. He was curious about her. He wanted to know more. “If you don’t mind me asking, Olivia, what attracted you to this occupation?”

She shrugged, though he caught the fleeting flash of a smile. “Once, when I was a little girl, my parents took me to Destin, Florida. I had never seen water that clear, or that blue, or sand that fine, or that white. I remember the way it felt beneath my feet. We made drip-sand castles, with tall spires and deep moats, and we collected beautiful shells along the shoreline. It was the first time I’d ever seen the ocean.”

She hazarded a glance in his direction and smiled. “That was when that strip of the gulf was still habitable. The emerald coast was what they called it back then. And what an apt description it was. Emerald.” Her wistful smile made him sad. “It was a place where water sparkled green beneath the sun. It was almost as if God had cast gems across the surface.” Peering at him sidelong, she shrugged. “My love affair with the ocean began there, I suppose, and I haven’t lost interest ever since.”

She met his gaze and her smile broadened. He found himself staring at her teeth.

“That summer we took a tour on a glass-bottom boat, and I can’t explain in words how beautiful it was: the colors and textures of the reefs, the vibrancy and variety of fish. It was as if a painter had used every available color on his palette, chosen at random, yet perfectly blended. I loved that it was at once haphazard and harmonious. That summer, it captured my heart and imagination, and it hasn’t let me go since then.”

When she exhaled softly, he realized he’d been staring, long after she’d finished her story. He was mesmerized, and decided to press her further. He was probably bordering on kooky again.

“Olivia, do you think about the future? About what you’ll do if the world collapses. More than it has already, I mean.”

“No. I don’t think about things like that. And in truth, I’m not a good planner. I’ll level with you, Liam, there’s a small part of me that still hopes humanity can make it through this. I still believe we can turn things around, dig ourselves out of this mess we’ve made. I mean, really.” She lifted her hands in the air. “How can we let it all go? It’s unthinkable. Not only that, it’s shameful.”

“It is. And though it’s good to believe in happy endings, in times like these, one must also be prudent. One must consider the facts as they are.” Glimpsing at her sidelong, he added. “I guess it’s a good thing you met me, Olivia. I happen to be an excellent planner.”

“Are you flirting with me, Liam?”

Damn right he was.

They collected their samples at thirty feet then descended to sixty and did the same. As they worked, they spoke of trivial things, kept the mood light despite the depressing landscape. They were isolated in a thick curtain of blackness, and were the only two living organisms for miles around. Liam had never felt more alone or detached, and though unnerving at times, it was an odd sort of peace: the whirring sounds of the submersible’s engines, the purring of oxygen as it flowed through the vents. He couldn’t take his eyes off the water. The ocean had been ailing since before he could remember, for more than a century, at least. It had been suffering a slow decline for ages. It was a patient fighting the rot of cancer, a victim falling prey to a deadly parasite. This strange world around him was suffocating.

Through heavy obsidian layers, the craft descended, until a sudden swirl of sand and silt began to obscure their vision. Liam pointed. “The pumps. Be careful. Don’t get too close.”

The mechanical processes were upsetting the water, which rocked the craft with the swell of the tides. Liam seized his armrests with talon-like fingers. To see the apparatus up close was unnerving. Gallons of water were being sucked into the pumps, treated and enriched, and then expelled from the rear. It was nothing short of remarkable.

Olivia angled the craft, shining the submersible’s light on the enormous apparatus. Pipes and tubes, like a writhing pit of snakes, crawled across the sea floor, while sand billowed from both openings at the rear. It reminded Liam of a complex CPR device, attempting to rejuvenate a long-dead patient.

The craft rolled slightly to the right. Liam cried out in surprise. Jesus, he grimaced. Get hold of yourself. You sound like a twelve year-old girl.

Olivia responded by pulling the craft higher. “This is as close as we can get, I’m afraid. Any closer, and we’ll be sucked into the business end of one of those tubes.”

“Let’s get our samples and get out of here.”

“Works for me,” she said, her jaw firm. As she worked the levers, the mechanical arm took samples from the turbulent waters, while the submersible’s light exposed the ductwork below. Her eyes widened at the complexity of it. “It’s huge. It must have cost millions,” she breathed.

“It did. Billions, actually—if you include the labor cost to set it all up.” He brought a hand to his temple and applied pressure. “I guess we’ll replace out if it was money well spent.”

A green light flashed at Olivia’s left hand. The samples had been taken. Time to leave. She folded the arm inside the submersible’s body. Peering at Liam, her brow creased with concern. “You know this isn’t scalable, don’t you? The concept barely makes sense. Think about it. What’s the long-range plan? To set this up across every dead zone? Who’s going to pay for all of this?”

“Don’t know. But I do know this: they won’t pay for anything if it doesn’t work.” With a sigh, he took a last look at the man-made circulatory system. She was right. It didn’t make sense. Synthesized life was no life at all. None of this belonged down here. He felt a sudden impulse to return to the surface. “We’ve got what we came for, Olivia. Let’s go. I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.”

With graceful elegance and a whisper of silk, she slipped into the high-back chair opposite his.

“You’re late,” he noted. “But you look beautiful, so I guess I can replace it in my heart to forgive you.”

With a smile, she lifted her napkin from the table. “So tell me, Dr. Colt. What’s the verdict?”

“You’re certainly not one for small talk, are you?”

“Nope. Not when it comes to this. So spill it. You’ve already tested the samples, I’m sure. If it were me, I know I would have. So out with it. I’ve been waiting all day. Put me out of my misery. Are the pumps working? Have they saved humanity? Has technology finally saved the world?”

Leaning forward, he inspected the deep cobalt of her eyes. Such an unusual color they were. So unique. How he hated to mute their sparkle. He took a breath. “You tell me, Olivia. What do you think? Do you believe technology can save our species?”

After briefly meeting his gaze, she looked away and lifted her glass of Pinot to the light. He waited. Her reply, when it came, was devastating.

“No. I don’t. Though I once did, perhaps. I don’t know anymore. Once, I believe there was a chance for us, a chance to recover a small piece of what was lost. But I don’t think so anymore. I was wrong. I think that time has come and gone.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m right?” she repeated, crestfallen.

“I’m sorry.”

She straightened in her chair. “Then tell me everything. And don’t sugarcoat it. I need to know the truth”

“The pumps aren’t solving the issue. The Gulf dead zone—for the foreseeable future—will remain quite dead, I’m afraid. Unless another solution can be found.”

Sitting back, she visibly collected herself then scanned the room and lifted a finger. “Excuse me,” she called out to the waitress. “Scotch, please.”

“Two,” he added. “Please make that two.”

Several times, as the evening progressed, Liam caught himself staring at her. Her green dress was enchanting and simple, the color vibrant against bronzed skin. She had tied her hair back in a loose and messy bun, knotted at the crown of her head. Wispy tendrils had fallen to her shoulders. She was sophisticated in a way that left him breathless.

Though he tried his best to keep the conversation light, the ominous truth bore down on their shoulders. They were scientists, after all, he reminded himself, professionals with the same background and education. They had too much in common to discuss other things. And the truth was unbelievable, too surreal to imagine. The world was falling to pieces around them, and they clung to each other as they slogged through the facts. She was a kindred spirit who shared his beliefs. End-of-the-world notwithstanding, he remarked, he was enjoying the evening immensely.

“So tell me, Liam, what’s next for you?”

“Well,” he replied, reaching under the table. “Back to D.C. in the morning.” He pulled a slim case from the bag at his feet. “To present my replaceings to the committee. After that, I’m off to the Far East.”

“Okay. And what do you think the committee will do with your replaceings?”

He popped the glucometer into the tip of his finger. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll schedule more think tanks, summon more scientists and specialists, try to implement a few fresh ideas. I’m impressed they’ve rallied to the cause. That’s promising. And I’m moved that they care about replaceing solutions. It’s just a shame they reacted so late.”

She smiled. “You mean to say that their timing sucks.”

“Yeah.” He grinned back. “Their timing sucks.”

He read the glucometer then twisted the dial on his pen to 4.

“Type 1?” she asked, as he dosed himself.

“Yep. Since I was twelve.”

“So, what grand adventure awaits you in the Far East?”

“More investigative testing, I’m afraid. I’m off to the coast of Japan, this time. To Komatsu, to be exact.”

She leaned forward excitedly. “You’re being sent to investigate the giant jellies, aren’t you? The recent bloom off the coast of Japan.”

“That’s right.” He raised an appreciative brow. “You certainly know your current events. They’re sending me to Echizen to investigate the bloom. The jellyfish are capsizing fishing boats there, and destroying what remains of a dying ecosystem. I’ve been asked to run tests to determine the cause.”

“But you already know the cause,” she scoffed.

“True. But I’m going anyway. I do what I’m told. These days, most of what I do is busy work. And yes—I’m certain I know the cause. It’s the water’s pH, in my opinion. My latest tests have revealed a startling range, somewhere between 7.6 and 7.9.”

Whistling low, she sat back in her chair. “That’s a perfect breeding ground for the jellies.”

“It is. Pair that with the extinction of predatory fish and you have yourself a tough situation. The jellyfish are running amuck in that area. I’m not sure what to expect.”

She reached across the table and touched his hand. “I want to see it, too. Take me with you.”

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the table while trying to suppress a shit-eating grin. “Let me get this straight. You want me to take you halfway around the globe to see a runaway population of giant jellyfish. Am I getting that right?” He lifted a brow. “How incredibly romantic. What an amazing second date that’ll be.”

“It will.” She smiled. “It’s my kind of romance, at least. Besides, I’ve got way too much vacation saved up at work. I can’t think of a better way to use it.”