CHAPTER 73
“I think the octopus is a she,” Val said.
Sturman stared at her across a restaurant table puddled with water. The rain had stopped. Mack and Eric, sitting with them on the deserted patio near a large swimming pool, also stared, but with more puzzled expressions.
“What are you talking about? Why?” Eric said.
Val pointed at the policemen in yellow rain slickers a hundred yards away, struggling to remove the remains of the crane operator’s body near the edge of the ruined tank.
She said, “It didn’t consume any of the bodies. It hasn’t actually eaten anyone it’s attacked here.”
Eric had been upset when she’d described what was left of DORA. Val and Mack had found the ROV when they joined a few Navy divers to rescue Sturman and the others. Nobody down there was seriously hurt, but the EMTs on site insisted that they all get checked out. Somehow the resort owner, Barbas, had talked his way out of it and, still soaking wet, had already gone to his office to try to quell the negative PR being fueled by social media.
Along with Ashley and a young boy who’d been trapped underwater, Rabinowitz also was still being attended to in one of the ambulances that had maneuvered to the rear of the resort. He was alert, and seemed remarkably well. The bolt of lightning had only run through one side of his body.
“Do octopuses ever kill prey indiscriminately?” Eric said.
“No,” Val said. “Just to eat. Something has to describe the conflicting feeding behaviors we’re seeing here. This animal’s inconsistent urge to feed.”
“Maybe it’s full,” Mack said. “It sure ate a lot of shit in the aquarium.”
She said, “Maybe. It did eat almost all the sea life in the tank. But I’m confused, because it didn’t eat any of these victims, and at its size it could probably eat a lot more if it wanted to. So there might be something else.”
“Senescence?” Sturman said.
She nodded. “Maybe.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Eric said.
Sturman said, “When octopuses stop eating, usually it’s because they’re old. Gonna die soon. But the males usually aren’t aggressive.”
“Right,” Val said. “Senescent males are indifferent to their own survival, practically suicidal sometimes, and typically show little urge to hunt. This animal here has done some active hunting, though, and has been very aggressive. So let’s say it’s a mature female.”
“Go on.”
“It’s possible she’s pregnant. . . .” She paused, thinking of her own failed pregnancy. And what might happen this time. She took a deep breath.
“You all right, Val?” Sturman said. He found her hand under the table.
“Sorry. Just lost my train of thought.”
Eric said, “You were saying this octopus could be pregnant. . . .”
“Yes. And starting to lose her appetite, but the urge to feed hasn’t left her entirely. So she’s getting in her last meal, before she makes a den.”
“Makes sense,” Sturman said.
“Great,” Eric said. “We’re dealing with a hungry, pregnant, giant female octopus.”
Val said, “There’s at least one other possibility. That she’s already laid her eggs.”
Sturman frowned. “But females don’t feed again, and never leave their den after laying eggs. Right?”
“Usually.”
Eric said, “What do you mean they never leave? You mean not until the eggs hatch?”
Val shook her head. “No, he means never. After one lays eggs, she usually stays put. Her body gradually consumes itself. Usually, she’ll die when her eggs hatch.”
“Well, if she never comes out again,” Eric said, “then how can a new mother be another scenario?”
“Here’s the thing. The females of some octopus species have been known to continue to eat after laying eggs . . . if the eggs were never fertilized. If they never actually mated, in other words. Or, if the eggs are simply inviable.”
“You mean if she lost her babies?” Eric said.
Under the table, Sturman squeezed her hand.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“So this thing could already have a den? With babies growing in it?” Mack said. He leaned forward.
“Or more likely, inviable eggs. It would explain the conflicting urges. The intermittent hunger, the aggressive urge to protect her clutch in a nearby den. If our octopus laid eggs, but there’s nothing actually growing inside them, her hormones might not have triggered all the usual postpartum events.”
Mack said, “You said the den would be nearby. Where?” He placed two thick hands on the table.
“Possibly just offshore here. It would have to be very close, for her to be protective of it.”
Eric said, “What do we do now, then?”
“If we can get another ROV down here, we can try and locate her den. But I think we already know where it is.”
Mack looked at her and nodded.
That evening, they decided to order takeout. Mack volunteered to pick it up, and asked Sturman to join him.
The two men stood near the edge of a bar at the mostly outdoor restaurant, waiting for their burgers to come out of the kitchen. Sturman watched a couple of aging female tourists downing drinks at the bar.
“You’re thinking about having one. Aren’t you?” Mack said.
Sturman looked at him. “What? No.”
“Bullshit. I know that hungry look. And it ain’t from watching the tits on those old bags.”
“Get off my back. I been clean.”
“Maybe.”
The men stared defiantly at one another for a few moments.
Sturman said, “Well, get to it. Why did you ask me to come? What do you want to tell me?”
“You know that Val’s dad was a drunk?”
Sturman nodded. “I do.” In the past, she had made a few angry comparisons between the two of them.
“She ever tell you what happened to him? Why you two never met?”
“No. She doesn’t talk about him much.”
He turned and spit into the bushes. “Well, as his drinking got worse, he started hitting her mom. My sister. I helped throw him out after that. The bum ended up writing Val off before he died of cirrhosis. All alone, living on the streets.”
Sturman held up a hand. “I know where you’re going. I got it. I know I got a problem. But it’s not bad like that.”
“Not yet.”
“I’m sortin’ it out, goddammit.” Sturman clenched his jaw. This guy had a lot of nerve. “I’m workin’ on it. It just . . . it’s always helped numb the pain.”
“She told me about that woman you were married to. Son . . . she’s dead. Nothing you can do about it.”
Sturman thought of Maria’s face. She and Val were so similar. The dark hair and eyes, the intelligence, the feisty personality. Maria would never have put up with his drinking, either.
Mack said, “Don’t be a quitter. Not on Val. And she won’t quit on you.”
“This is some pretty heavy talk. You sound like a shrink.”
Mack slammed his hand down on a table, causing the women at the bar to look their way. “I’m not fuckin’ around here. I mean it. We’re talking about my niece. If you want to be with her, stay clean. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You can’t live in the past.”
Sturman gestured at Mack’s leg. “Neither should you.”
The old Marine gritted his teeth. “Stay clean.”
“I will.” Sturman regarded him for a moment. “Why you telling me this now?”
Mack nodded past his shoulder. “Food’s here.”