Chapter Five

By the next morning the storm had passed. The day was sunny, with almost no wind. Perfect weather for flying a kite or a drone. Dylan would have been happy doing either of those things, but he was really excited about flying the drone.

Instead they were walking along the beach, his grandpa moving the metal detector above the sand. Whenever it beeped they’d put it aside and dig, looking for what had caused the reaction. So far their “treasure” was some old nails, a couple of rusty tins from the old cannery and a beer can that wasn’t very old at all. The only thing they’d uncovered that was even a little interesting was a brass button that could have come from a sailor’s uniform.

“As the tide goes out we’ll have more shore to search, so this is only going to get better,” Grandpa said.

Dylan was not so sure about that—he didn’t know how things could get more boring. He had been hoping for gold coins or a pirate sword or, well, something better than a few rusty old nails. Still, every time the detector beeped he couldn’t help but hope there was something special buried there.

On the ocean huge Steller sea lions periscoped out of the water. They seemed curious, watching and barking as Dylan and his grandfather moved along the beach. Up ahead a couple of fat sea lions were sunning themselves on the sand. Dylan loved animals, and there were so many to see out here. And not just otters and sea lions and orcas. The island was home to a herd of deer, a couple of black bears and more birds than he could count.

As Dylan and his grandfather approached them, the sea lions moved back into the water.

Dylan cocked his head to the side. “Did you hear that?”

His grandpa looked up from the metal detector. “I heard the barking, and I hear the waves and seagulls, but I don’t hear anything else. My ears are as old as the rest of me.”

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s the orcas talking.”

“They’re probably chasing down lunch,” Grandpa said.

When the pod was hunting, they talked to each other as they drove the fish into the shallows and surrounded them.

“It’s different,” Dylan said. “They sound…they sound…upset.”

Grandpa put down the metal detector and opened up his bag. He handed Dylan a pair of binoculars. “Go up on the rocks over there and see if you can spot them.”

Dylan grabbed the binoculars and ran toward the rocks where the beach dead-ended. They were steep and big and jutted well out into the ocean. He wanted to move fast, but he had to move carefully. The rocks were sharp, and they were wet, which made them slick.

Dylan knew his parents wouldn’t have let him climb up here by himself. They always wanted to be there, holding his hand every step of the way, but his grandpa was different. He always let Dylan do things that would have made his parents nervous.

Dylan slipped a little, almost falling onto his hands. He thought that maybe, for a couple of those steps, a helping hand would have been nice.

He finally got to the top of the outcrop. High up here he could see much more. He looked out on the ocean. The surface was so calm and flat that he instantly picked out the dorsal fins and backs of the orcas. They were so close there was no need for the binoculars.

“Do you see them?” Grandpa yelled up from the beach below.

“Yes!” Dylan tried to count the fins he could see. It was hard because the whales were circling and going under and coming up. Up here, closer to them, he could hear their calls more clearly. They were making many sounds, and it did seem like they were upset. But why? What were they upset about?

The whales kept swimming in circles just a short distance from shore. Dylan wished they’d go farther away from the sharp rocks. Dorsal fins kept coming up out of the water and going back under the waves. It looked like the whole pod was here. Wait—where was Oreo? He was little, so he couldn’t stay underwater as long as the other orcas could, but he was also harder to spot among the others and the waves. And then Dylan saw him. Oreo was on the rocks at the bottom of the outcrop.

It had taken Grandpa some time to scale the rocks. He and Dylan stood there, looking down at the ocean and the little orca stranded on the rocks. He was no more than fifteen feet below them. Out in the water the pod was still circling and calling. It sounded like crying. Now Dylan knew why they were so upset.

“How did this happen?” Dylan asked.

“There could be lots of reasons. It might just be that the bottom of the ocean was changed by the storm. Maybe they were chasing salmon and then the tide went out and he got trapped. That can happen to the younger orcas because they’re not as experienced.”

“But he’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”

His grandpa didn’t answer right away.

“Grandpa, he’ll be okay, right?”

His grandpa shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“We have to do something to help,” Dylan pleaded.

“I’m not sure if there’s much we can do.”

“We have to get him back into the water.”

“I don’t see how we can do that. He’s too big for us to move. Besides, it’s going to get harder. The tide is still going out.”

Dylan hadn’t thought of that. The little whale was already out of the water, and it was only going to get worse.

“We have to call somebody! My parents…or the coast guard…or I don’t know.”

“Remember, the radio still isn’t working, but even if we could call for help, there’s nobody who can get here in time. We’re the only two people on the island right now.”

“Then we have to do something.”

“The only help is hours away. We have to hope the water rises enough at high tide to allow the whale to float back out, but that’s still at least eight hours away.”

“Then Oreo will be okay in eight hours.”

Grandpa shook his head. “I don’t think he can live that long out of the water.”

“But why not? He’s a mammal, so he breathes air,” Dylan said.

“He breathes air, but he still needs the water. Without water his skin will dry out. Without water to provide protection, he’ll get sunburned and dehydrated. The only way we could stop those things is…well…”

“What? What could we do?” Dylan asked.

“We’d have to drape something over Oreo to protect him from the sun. And keep him wet. To stop his skin from drying out. But we can’t do that from up here, and, to be honest, I don’t think I can get down to those rocks.”

“I can,” Dylan said.

“I can’t let you do that by yourself,” Grandpa said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“What if you made it safer?” Dylan asked.

“How would I do that?”

“I don’t know, but you can figure it out. I know you can.”

His grandpa didn’t answer. He looked like he was thinking. And then he smiled. And Dylan knew he had an idea.