Jeremy Robinson - Island 731

Hawkins just shrugged.

“You’re sure?” Joliet asked. “It’s pretty bad.”

Kam gave a semiconfident nod. “I’ve seen my mother gut fish. I should be okay.”

“All right. If you say so,” Joliet said. “Hey, while you’re here, can you read this for us?” She handed him the red plastic band that had been removed from the turtle’s midsection.

Kam turned the ring around in his hand, squinting at the text. “Uh, broccoli. It says ‘broccoli.’ Must have been used to hold stocks together.”

“Don’t they usually use rubber bands for that?” Bray asked.

Kam shrugged. “I’m not a farmer.”

“Either way,” Hawkins said, “we know it’s trash and had no business being in the Pacific Ocean. Can we finish? There’s still a storm coming.”

Hawkins wasn’t worried about the storm. It was still a few hours away. But it made for a handy excuse to press forward and get this business finished.

“Right,” Joliet said. She pulled open the pericardium and looked inside. “The heart, aorta, and pulmonary arteries all appear healthy. There are no signs of heart disease. But it is a little small for a specimen this size.”

Kam’s hand went to his mouth, his face barely containing revulsion. When all three turned toward him, he took a deep breath, held it, and then removed his hand. “Please. Continue.”

Joliet made quick work of the rest of the major organs, describing the health and state of the lungs, liver, spleen, cloaca, and mesenteries as she removed them from the body and placed them in a bowl held by the unflinching Kam. When the stomach was revealed, her eyes went wide. “The, ahh, stomach appears to be distended. It’s at least twice the size as expected.” She poked the stomach with her index finger. “It’s quite firm.” She looked at Hawkins. “Come feel this.”

“I’ll pass,” Hawkins said, gloved hands raised.

She turned to Kam. “How about you?”

Kam quickly shook his head. The kid looked like he was a hiccup away from puking.

The door to the lab swung open. Phil Bennett stepped inside. “Hey,” he said, looking apologetic for intruding.

The lanky kid had tussled brown hair and pale skin, but enough freckles to almost make his face look tan. He looked too young to be an engineer, even a junior engineer, but then again, Kam looked even younger and he was in charge of the ship’s computers. Hawkins thought neither could be over twenty, but also knew that the older he got, the more twenty-somethings looked like teenagers to him.

“Captain Drake asked me to let you guys know the storm will be here soon. Says to wrap it up ASAP.” A flash of confusion crossed Bennett’s face when he saw Kam. “What are you doing here?”

“Just helping,” Kam said.

“He’s manning up, that’s what,” Bray said with a grin. “You want to give it a try?”

Bennett looked unsure, but walked closer. Kam stepped aside as Bennett got closer, revealing the opened turtle and its mottled organs. Bennett stopped at the sight. He winced. “That’s… gross.”

“Sure you don’t want to lend a hand?” Bray asked.

“I think I prefer engines, but it’s really not that different, I guess,” Bennett said.

“How do you figure?” Bray asked.

Bennett stepped closer, eyeing the carved, open body. “Well, for starters, the Magellan has an inner steel framework and hull—the bones and skin. The bridge is like the head.” He wandered around the table and tapped the turtle’s head with his finger. Then suddenly, as though realizing what he’d just done, he winced and wiped the finger on his oil-stained pants. “The bridge contains the high-tech computer system, which is really like a brain. It can perceive the outside world through radar, satellite data, and an array of on-board sensors that measure temperature, wind speed, and even the visual spectrum. The computers are also connected to every area of the ship. The engine, the doors, the hull, air-conditioning, the boiler, everything. It’s really a fairly complex nervous system. The ship can’t technically feel pain, but when something goes wrong, and those alarms go off, it sure sounds like a scream.”

Bennett wandered around the turtle, looking at the insides with less disgust.

Is he really looking at it like it’s just a machine now? Hawkins wondered.

“This turtle and the Magellan both need chemical fuel to operate. The fuel gets processed and turned into kinetic energy. Both need a continuous supply of oxygen. When the engines are used, they get hot and are cooled with liquid.”

He looked down at the array of organs on display. “It’s really nothing more than an open car hood.” He pointed to one organ at a time, naming them. “Gas tank. Carburetor. Air pump. Exhaust.” He pointed to the heart. “Just one piston, though.”

The look on his face had changed from repulsion to full-on interest.

“That’s kind of messed-up thinking,” Bray said, snapping Bennett’s attention back up. “Historically speaking, it’s when people start seeing each other as nonhuman, or machinelike that the worst atrocities are committed.”

“It’s a turtle,” Bennett said. “Not a person.”

Bray rolled his eyes. “Flesh and blood is flesh and blood. The same logic applies.”

“Actually,” Joliet said, “everything he said is correct and fairly insightful.”

“For a mechanic?” Bennett said, sounding a little defensive now.

“For anyone,” she said.

Bennett shrugged like it was nothing. “I’m interested in engines of all kinds.”

“All kinds,” Bray said. “ All kinds.”

Hawkins knew that Bray was just messing with Bennett, but he wasn’t sure the kid knew that. Actually, he was sure of it when Bennett grew suddenly serious.

“My father died of a heart attack when he was forty,” Bennett said. “My mother and I had to move in with her parents. Heart disease is genetic. Figured I better know how my engine works so I can service it right and not join him in fifteen years.” He dipped his head toward Bray’s stomach. “You should probably start thinking about that, too.”

“I’m a high school teacher,” Bray said. “You’ll have to do better than that if you’re trying to insult me.”

The pair stared at each other for a moment. Bennett looked like he was ready to say something and Hawkins knew Bray would already have thirty different one-liners lined up. He was about to say they didn’t have time to argue, but Bennett beat him to the punch.

“Just forget it, okay?” Bennett took a step back toward the door, looking wounded. Before anyone could apologize, he paused. “Have you found anything interesting? I mean, for why we’re out here. The Garbage Patch.”

“We’re getting there,” Joliet said.

Bennett backed toward the door. “Right. Okay. So yeah. Drake says to make it snappy.” He stopped at the door. “Hey, Kam—good luck with the turtle, buddy.” And with that, he stepped out of the room and closed the door.

“I knew he wouldn’t stay,” Bray said.

“Not sure pissing off the guy who controls the air-conditioning in our room is a good idea,” Hawkins said. “Could make our lives hell.”

Bray grunted, but didn’t argue the point.

“Didn’t know you two were friends,” Joliet said to Kam.

Kam shrugged, still looking queasy. “Neither did I.”

“Right.” With a reassuring smile, Joliet turned back to the turtle’s stomach and placed a scalpel against the organ. “I’m going to open the stomach now. Ready?”

Kam took a breath, swallowed, and nodded.

She made the cut as she spoke. “If the turtle ate anything—oh my God.”

Hawkins stepped closer, interest overriding revulsion. “What is it?”