Ryan Lockwood - Below

“Most people just call me ‘Sturman.’ It’s a Navy thing.”

“Right. Anyway, Dosidicus are nowhere near as big as giant squid, but they’re still quite large. There’ve been reports from South America of Humboldts growing to twelve feet or more, though I’m fairly certain those reports are exaggerations. I’ve personally seen mature adults two meters long that weigh as much as I do… as big as a very large dog.”

“Never heard a woman compare herself to a dog before.”

Sturman heard another loud sigh. He looked at Bud. His dog was sitting next to him at the sunny street-side patio of a burger joint, staring at him with sad eyes in an effort to elicit a French fry. Sturman scratched his ears. “Hear that, Bud? These things are bigger than you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Just talking to my business partner.”

“Right… so what I was getting at is that the only cephalopods people hear about are giant squid, or their cousins, colossal squid, simply because they’re so big. The popular media can generate a lot of interest about animals that are forty feet long and weigh a ton. But the thing is, nobody will ever occupy the same space as a giant squid unless they go thousands of feet underwater in a submersible. Giant squid are too few and too deep.

“The squid that I study are much faster, more graceful, and more aggressive than any giant squid. And probably more intelligent. Plus, they’re easier to study, since they actually go into shallower water where we can dive with them.”

“Doc, you sure know your squids. So you tagged one of these things, these Humboldt squid, off San Diego? They aren’t very common around here, are they?”

“No, they aren’t. Actually, that squid was tagged in the Gulf of California. The Sea of Cortez. That’s why I’m so glad you called. That’s the first Dosidicus from my study to move out of the study area.”

“Let’s get something out of the way here. I don’t mind helping you out, but it also says something here about a reward.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. The people at PLARG should be able to help you out with that.”

“They said to talk to you about the money.”

“I’m sure they can help you out. I think the going rate is a hundred dollars for a returned tag. Look, Mr. Sturman, this is really important research. That tag you found proves that these squid are moving north into California. We’ve had many reports over the last decade of Humboldts moving as far north as western Canada, but we’ve never been able to track any of the animals from Mexico or anywhere else. Many of us think they’re now expanding their range.”

“So I guess this is great news for you, then?” Sturman threw a French fry at a seagull. Only a hundred dollars.

“It’s outstanding news. I’m coming back to California in a few days.... Maybe I can head first to San Diego and talk with you about the tag. I’d like to learn about where you found it, and maybe spend a few days in the area looking for the shoal. Do you have your own boat, by any chance?”

“I’m a divemaster. Got a live-aboard thirty-six-foot Wellcraft.”

“Really? Would you be interested in taking me out on the water for a few days this week? I’d pay you, of course. The grant covers unexpected research costs.”

Sturman sat up in his chair. “Actually, my calendar just opened up for this week. We could probably work something out, Dr. Martell.”

“That’s great.”

“You really willing to spend time out on a boat with a stranger?”

“I’ve done crazier things, and I don’t have time to try and research a better deal. Your boat sounds perfect, anyway. I’d just need to bring a little equipment on board. Oh, and we’d have to go out at night. Would that be a problem?”

“No, like I said, I’m sure we can work something out. So why did you say these squid ventured to my neck of the woods?”

“Squid are just like every other animal, even human beings. We all spread wherever we can, where conditions may be as favorable or more favorable than the place we were before, until we are limited by something. People have spread all over the planet because of our amazing ability to adapt using clothing, shelter, new food sources… you get the point. But with other animals, which are evolved for a specific set of conditions, movements into new habitats only can happen when the ecology or environmental conditions of an area change. Whatever limiting factors were present before, such as lack of food sources or temperatures out of an ideal range, must change to become more favorable.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about this.” Sturman thought of the missing father and daughter. “Dr. Martell, these squid ever attack people?”

“There’s some anecdotal evidence that they’ve attacked fishermen in Baja. I’ve also had them rough me up a bit, and so have some other divers who have spent a lot of time with them. A guy I know down here even wears a custom-made suit of plastic armor when he dives with Humboldts. But there’s never been a recorded case of Humboldt squid killing or seriously hurting anyone. Why?”

“Well, I told you where I found your transmitter.”

“Off La Jolla, right?”

“That’s right. But I haven’t told you what I was doing when I found it.”

Awhite-on-black Jolly Roger flapped over Steve Black’s head as he steered his boat west into a stiff onshore breeze. He looked up at his flag and smiled back at the skull and crossbones, gold glinting from one of his teeth. He was happy to have some business this evening, even if it was a black family. Sturman would be jealous. Ever since the economy had floundered, all the dive boat captains had struggled to make ends meet. Later tonight, though, the beers could be on him.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to find the dive site marker, staring almost directly into the setting sun as he was. He was headed for his well-kept secret—a hotbed of sea life just off the coast that few divers knew about. Here, the bottom rose up to a forty-foot rock pinnacle, which was home to a miniature forest of giant kelp. Below the surface, the kelp’s sturdy strands swayed in the current as they stretched for the light of the surface above, securely anchored to the rock with root-like holdfasts. Steve had learned about the spot from a fishing buddy and could only navigate to it using GPS. Since it wasn’t far from shore, he would swing Black Bart around and approach the site from an angle to make it harder for the people he brought on board to figure out where it was. One guy had tried to GPS the site when Steve had brought him out here, but that device now rested somewhere on the bottom around the pinnacle, collecting silt.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon, looking impossibly large and distorted as it sank into the Pacific. A bright line of color spread along the ocean to each side, and clouds above the sun harnessed its dying light to form themselves into gigantic masses of pastel-pink coral.

Tourists loved sunsets. And happy tourists meant better tips. Regardless of how this dive went, the Jackson family was enjoying their evening.

Steve looked down to the main deck at his dive group. The family from Las Vegas had stopped pulling on their wet suits to watch the sun, smiling broadly and uttering praises for the amazing show Mother Nature was putting on.

Steve was able to charge these people a bit more for the night dive. Maybe it was the novelty, or maybe because night dives were more dangerous. They probably thought a divemaster had more responsibility at night. He probably did, but he didn’t care. He expected divers to use their own heads. He’d gotten jaded to scuba diving after logging thousands of dives—more than half right here in the San Diego area. Now he rarely got excited or scared. All the dives were fairly routine now, even shark dives in open water… or octopus encounters like he had planned for tonight. This was just a job now.