The Merlin Effect Read Free

buoy. Salty spray stung her eyes, but she covered the distance in seconds.
    As she approached, a hulking body lifted slightly above the waves and took an exhausted gasp of air before thrashing and rolling wildly in the water. A new wave drenched her, and with it came recognition. It was a whale.
    Never had Kate seen a living being so large, at least three or four times her height in length. White barnacles peppered the whale’s glistening skin, covering head, back and fins.
    Isabella had mentioned that a small group of gray whales remained near the lagoon all year round, instead of joining the rest of their kind in the annual migration to the Arctic. Although this behavior baffled scientists, no one had eversucceeded in getting close enough to study them. All anyone knew was that the whales stayed by the whirlpool, circling and singing without rest.
    Isabella had even given Kate a brief lesson in whale biology in case she should be lucky enough to see one of them during her kayak trips. She had only half listened, estimating her chances of spotting a whale at zero. Yet there could be no mistaking this huge creature that was right here before her, struggling to stay alive.
    Careful to keep clear of the enormous body, Kate brought her kayak nearer to the buoy. She realized, as the whale rolled over, that she had encountered a young male. Big as he was, he had only reached half of his adult size. If, in fact, he ever made it to adulthood. For his plight was clear. His tail flukes were completely tangled in the nylon net attached to the buoy. Wires wrapped tightly, sliced deeply. Blood swirled on the water. The corner of one fluke hung loose, nearly severed.
    Once more the whale flailed, knocking his tail against the instruments, blowing a blast of spray that rained down on Kate. She stowed her paddle and leaned over to the side, nearly swamping the kayak, trying to pull the net off the tail, itself almost as big as her boat. Yet as hard as she tugged, the net would not come free.
    Bracing her hands on the slippery skin, she tried again, pulling with all her strength. No success.
    Her fingers stiff from cold, she reached for one of the two big knots attaching the net to the buoy. At length she succeeded in untying it. Carefully, she pulled herself over to the other knot. It resisted, but finally gave way. As the net slid into the water, she felt a surge of hope. Then she realized that the net connected to the buoy in a third place, at the base of the transmitter dish.
    At that instant, the great tail whipped out of the waves, smacking her hard across her left side. The kayak flipped over, plunging her into icy blackness. She swallowed water, struggling to breathe. Her arms flailed, but she could not pull herself out of the boat. Pain shot through her chest, throbbed in her head. Desperately, she punched at her spray skirt to free herself.
    Suddenly she tasted air again. She gagged, coughing up sea water. The momentum of her roll had flipped the kayak upright, but the boat now rode dangerously low. Her sun hat was gone; her spray skirt was torn. Choking, she rubbed her stinging eyes, as water cascaded down from her hair and shoulders.
    Even as she scolded herself for trying to rescue a whale all by herself, the injured animal abruptly ceased fighting. But for a single quivering fin, he lay motionless in the water.
    She surveyed the young leviathan, lying limp by the buoy. Resignedly, she looked toward shore. The wavering lights of camp seemed to welcome her, offering warmth and safety and dry land. Then the whale stirred, releasing a low, shivery moan, the sound of a living being preparing to die.
    The whale’s eye, as round and silver as the moon itself, met hers. For a long moment, they held each other’s gaze.
    Instinctively, she reached for the transmitter dish where the nylon net connected to the buoy. One of the two rods anchoring the dish to the buoy had already broken. Perhaps…She stretched herself farther, farther,