Ryan Lockwood - Below

“I figure I can’t do much to help. Besides, what good is my boat down here if the squid are headed to Hollywood?”

Val shook her head and smiled. “You don’t mind bringing your boat up to Los Angeles, then? Spending some time up there? We might need to go even farther north, if the squid continue up the coast.”

“I figured you’d ask eventually, which is why I’m offering. I need to get outta town for a few days, and I want to find these bastards.”

“When will I meet Montoya?”

“I’ll have him come by your hotel. Might as well check out in the next hour, if you can.”

“Right. I guess all my equipment’s on your boat. So I guess that’s it. Wow. Crazy week, huh?”

“I reckon it was. See you in L.A.”

The midday sun shone bright and full on the sparkling ocean as Sturman piloted Maria northward. He had been chugging along the California coastline toward the crowded metropolis that was L.A.-Orange County for several hours. He knew he was off the coast of Camp Pendleton now because of the lack of visible infrastructure or vehicles on the distant shoreline. The seas were light, and the air and water were both pleasantly warm. The height of the California summer.

Despite it being a Saturday in early August, boat traffic had remained very light near the coast. The stretch between San Diego and L.A. rarely saw heavy nautical activity, other than cargo freighters or military vessels. Until he hit the cross-traffic headed out of Los Angeles to Catalina Island and distant Pacific ports, he shouldn’t see many ships.

Two dolphins appeared off the starboard side and began pacing his boat, matching her fifteen-knot clip. Sturman smiled at the sleek, playful pair. They were clearly enjoying his company as much as he enjoyed theirs. He could tell that one was actually looking at him as it turned on its side for several moments to direct a small eye up out of the water. He’d seen whales do the same thing. It was as if they were looking a man in the face and wondering what he was up to. Bud also had noticed the dolphins and barked when one cleared the water.

“Pretty cool, huh, pal?” Sturman scratched his dog’s ears.

It was good to see dolphins. Hell, it was good to see any natural marine life doing well anymore. Every year it seemed there were fewer marine mammals and sport fish off the coast.

One of the inquisitive dolphins, still smiling its perpetual smile, gracefully rolled over a few times in the water and hurtled toward the bow of the boat with a few powerful thrusts of its tail flukes. The other dolphin followed. It seemed the duo was going to try its luck riding the wave of water created by the forward-moving hull, but Sturman figured they wouldn’t have much luck with a boat as small as his. He stood in the flying bridge and leaned out over the water to try and catch a glimpse of the animals’ activities. The salt air and sunshine and scenery brought a powerful memory flooding back. Maria. Hawaii. Their honeymoon. They had watched three dolphins playing as their dive boat returned from a two-tank trip.

Sturman’s smile faded and he withdrew back into the boat. It had been a few days since he’d had a drink. Hell, he had a long way to go. He might as well enjoy himself.

As he rose to locate a bottle of rum, his cell phone rang. He decided to ignore it and head for the bottle, but as it continued to ring he cursed and turned back toward the phone on the dash.

“Sturman here.”

“Hi, it’s Val.”

“Hey, Doc.”

“Are you all right? You sound funny.”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

“Anyway, I just got finished looking at the Humboldt carcass. It was amazing. The thing was huge.” She talked fast and loud, like a tomboy who had just caught her first frog.

“How huge?”

“Biggest one I’ve ever seen. Fifty-four kilograms. Over two meters long, and thick. And she wasn’t too badly damaged.”

“So what’s that—over a hundred pounds, anyway?”

“About one-twenty.”

He whistled. “That is big. Learn anything?”

“So on the last squid we dissected, I didn’t see anything unusual, other than its diet. It had been eating fish not commonly found in the Baja diet, like several rockfish species and what appeared to be the remains of a surprisingly large Pacific hake. But this one…”

“What?”

“There was something else I’ve never seen. When I opened her up, I saw that she had some sort of parasitic flatworms all over the organs. I mean, these guys were affixed to the digestive tract, the liver, the gills, and even seemed to be clustered around some other organs.”

“Shit. That’s pretty disgusting. Won’t those things kill the squid?”

“Maybe they would eventually. Actually, Humboldt squid often have parasitic infections from tapeworms and other marine creatures. Never to this extent, generally. This level of parasitism is usually fatal. And here’s the other interesting thing—I’ve never seen this type of marine worm before.”

“I thought your specialty was squid, and all them other mollusks. You an expert on worms, too?”

“No. But I’ve taken a lot of courses on marine life, and I’ve come across most of the known Humboldt squid parasites when dissecting them. This trematode was something I’ve never seen. It’s probably a known species of worm, but I don’t think it’s ever been observed in Dosidicus. ”

“And that’s really exciting for some reason, then?”

“Well, besides a whole paper on the novel parasitic relationship, if it is a new one, this parasitism might have several implications regarding the recent attacks.”

“You’ve got my attention.”

“Well, in many cases, parasites don’t just feed off hosts. They also alter them.”

“What do you mean, ‘alter’?”

Val thought for a moment. “Take rabies, for example. You may not think of the rabies virus as a parasite, but its interaction with a mammal host is classic parasitism. And as you probably know, when an animal gets rabies, its behavior is significantly altered. Rabid animals become highly aggressive and more likely to bite. Since the virus spreads from the saliva of infected animals into the blood of healthy animals, the aggressive behavior is essentially the rabies’ way of ensuring its own survival. It causes the aggression intentionally to facilitate its own reproduction.”

“You’re saying the rabies virus consciously knows to do that? Come on.”

“Not exactly. It’s safer to say rabies evolved with its mammal hosts in such a way that those viruses that caused aggression were more likely to spread than other rabies viruses. This allowed the viruses that caused the altered behavior to more effectively reproduce and pass on their genetic material.”

“I’ll be damned. You think that’s happening here?”

“I don’t know. I took samples of the worms and the infested tissues, but it will take a lot more research. What I can tell you is that I’ve read several scientific papers on snails, which are also mollusks, that have grown significantly larger and shown altered behavior when infested by parasitic flukes. I can further tell you I’ve never seen a Humboldt squid this big, and I’ve seen a lot of Humboldt squid. The heightened aggression this shoal appears to be exhibiting could potentially be the result of parasitic effects to each affected squid’s nervous system.”

“Rabid squid. Now I’ve heard it all.” He stroked Bud’s head, trying to imagine him with rabies.

“The crazy thing is that it may not even be the flatworms themselves that are causing the changes. Parasites can introduce other, smaller parasites, like when a mosquito delivers malaria to a human host. These smaller parasites can easily invade tissues and organs, or the larger parasites themselves may have direct effects on those organs. I could go on and on about this weird stuff. Anyway, you see what I’m saying? An unfamiliar parasite in these squid could have all sorts of implications.”