Thou Art Orca

In Memory of Tilikum

January 6, 2017, noontime:

I am rereading the last chapter of the final draft of my book before sending it to the editor, when my husband calls.

Hey, Gi, did you hear?

I can tell by the way he asks it is not going to be good news.

No, hear what?

He died.

Who died?

Tilikum.

I screamed. No, no, no, please, no!

Yes, hon, about three hours ago. I’m sorry.

The flood gates are open and I can’t hold back the flow of tears.

Can I call you back in a few minutes? I ask him, tell him.

I take my head in both hands and feel as though the world has gone mad. I call out his name and am surprised at the level of hysteria-filled grief I’m experiencing.

Tilikum, I am so sorry, I am so sorry. I repeat it over and over again.

I didn’t want you to die; you are too young. It’s too soon. I wanted you to live to swim in the waters of your natural habitat, once again.

I’m being torn inside at the thought of his miserable life, his hopeless life. I feel as if I let him down and continue to apologize to him aloud.

I want to undo his death.

After a few moments I tell myself that now he IS free. But, it’s not the same as free. I can’t help but think about the years he spent trapped in the confines of a very small area and lived this way with acceptance, but not really.

I started to panic when the thought came to me. Which one of them is next to die without having had the chance to be free. I am beside myself with anger and sadness.

The magnificent bull orca Tilikum spent all but two and a half years of his life jailed and performing for the masses. He died at SeaWorld, Orlando and was only thirty-six—much younger than most bull orcas who live in the wild. There are credible reports indicating that orcas can live up to fifty or sixty years in their natural environment.

Tilikum is the inspiration for this book. I desperately wanted my story to attribute to his release. Sadly, he will never again have the opportunity to swim in the waters of the open sea. I mourn his death and only wish I had worked harder to have this book published much sooner. It didn’t work out that way and I can only hope the day will soon come when no other orca will die in captivity.

Dedication

For Tilikum, Corky, and Lolita

And all those beings who possess a consciousness,

a self-awareness,

and a cultural identity equal to or greater

than that of any human.

Forgive Us

Preface

The nucleus of this story is the result of the awakening of a dormant passion that surfaced after I saw the documentary Blackfish which aired in 2013.

Much of my storyline was developed utilizing an amazing and wonderful gift—the ability to dream. I intertwined my wild imagination with reality that was gleaned from documented facts concerning orcas in captivity. The fantastical tidbits fit the theme and paint a visual for certain narratives within these pages. Throughout the book, a young woman’s encounters become more frequent and her connection with these magnificent creatures is obvious. As events unfold, she is more and more able to grasp their higher intellect and innate sense of self-awareness, and she clearly sees the injustice and cruelty of holding these precious beings in captivity.

As you turn the pages, you will note I continue to refer to these sea mammals as who instead of the typical which or that, the correct usage when referring to anything nonhuman. My ultimate goal is to draw massive attention once again (as countless others have done) to these beautiful sea mammals and to highlight the unnaturalness and miserable state of merely existing they experience while imprisoned. I would love to see all of them released into the wild, and I dare to think that maybe my story will help achieve this.

This book is fiction and although I refer to organizations that actually do exist, and mention a documentary numerous times that actually did air, any names within this book proposing to be affiliated with these organizations or documentaries are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual person(s), living or dead is purely coincidental.

If you would like more information about orcas/dolphins in captivity, check the Facts/Resources page in the back of this book. It’s a good start. For obvious reasons, I only listed a few. There’s a plethora of articles on the subject and names of organizations dedicated to exposing the true facts relating to all sea mammals/mammals/animals imprisoned by humans. Most of these organizations work 24/7 devoting their time, resources and people to end the brutality and inhumaneness of it all.

First Encounter

What am I lying on?

Feels like concrete. Stone? Yes, I’m sure it’s one of these.

And it’s wet!

Well, so am I, and cold!

Where am I?

My body is reacting to these unanswered questions; I can’t stop trembling.

Usually I embrace those moments whenever my imagination runs me through the polarized sensations of dread and thrill.

So, I’m surprised at my uneasiness with what’s going on right now. Besides feeling disoriented and confused, I’m downright scared, the very reason I continue to resist the urge to open my eyes—not sure of what they might reveal.

This just adds to my climbing apprehension. And, there’s more.

I recall something freaky happening just moments ago, the sound of a massive creation carving a path through a vast sea producing a wake as intimidating as a tsunami. Not to mention the strong wind it carried causing me to shiver.

A navy destroyer?

How bizarre is that?

From the far end of somewhere, I sense it’s returning. Once again I squeeze tighter into a fetal position until it completes another passing, for the second time.

A vision of a giant race car turning laps around a track pops into my head before the picture instantly vanishes.

The sphere of my awareness is split. There are fleeting moments my thoughts are as sharp as a tack, yet I don't have a concept of time.

Maybe I’m dying and this is how it feels to wrestle both worlds.

After what seems like an eternity, I brave it and open my eyes. It’s dark everywhere, except for a sliver of illumination coming from above. I’m energized when I realize the light is caused by the full moon.

Then, I must be alive! Oh, thank God I’m not dying.

Just in a state of oblivion. Ugh, not much better.

I’m maxed out—at the point that I’m ready to face whatever it is. It’s how I cope with things that heighten my anxiety level just before I snap. Ultimately, I go all out in the end and it usually works for me. Face my fears, yep. But this is like nothing I’ve ever faced before.

Don’t give up; find the courage.

Lying on my left side pressed to the hard surface beneath me, I struggle to raise my head and pan the area. The beam cast by the moon’s glow enables me to see shadowy figures in the near distance; still life, not human.

Bleachers? Weird.

The muscles in my neck are singeing their nerve endings. I need to put my head back down to relieve the burn.

Maybe I suffered a breakdown and had to be medicated? If this is all I can come up with…oh joy, since I don’t recall any recent behavioral changes—no mood swings, no sudden fits of anger.

Whatever it is, it makes another show of itself—the loud, rumbling of its strength.

Instinct tells me it is not an inanimate object. Common sense screams…delusional!

It’s getting more difficult to lift my upper body and I strain to look in the direction of where it’s coming from. A second after processing what I see, my head falls back and I pass out. For how long, I really can’t say.

Eventually, a determined inner force yanks me from my self-induced mini-coma and just like one of the side effects, I experience temporary memory loss.

I’m getting pissed now. I’ve been dancing around this long enough. I want some answers and I refuse to back down. I’m ready—ready to die if I have to—just to be free of whatever this is.

Don’t I sound bullish?

Who am I kidding? If I could, I would make a run for it. Somehow my brain refuses to send that signal to my legs, guaranteeing that I’m not going anywhere soon.

So, what do I do now? Keep still and wait—fearlessly yet dreading?

The beating of my heart knocks against its protective covering, sending a vibration that invades my eardrums.

The longer I’m stuck in this situation the more my annoyance grows at the same time my patience dwindles.

I yell out, Bring it on, whatever you are! My wish is granted before my brain has the chance to regret the words.

Again, that sound.

At its peak my ears have little protection, but I close my eyes to shield them from the force of the rushing gust. It's like a bullet train and I’m just a few feet away.

As quickly as it passes, it returns releasing a piercing, melodic squeal that’s familiar yet not likely to be in the here and now. The thought comforts me, somewhat. My ears are taking a beating, though.

Suddenly, it becomes so quiet I could hear a pin drop, if I don’t count the muted thumping in my chest.

Just as suddenly, that silence is interrupted when another echoing call sings out, only this time the singer remains planted and much too close for my comfort.

I scrunch my eyes and cringe knowing the noise is inevitable. Instead, I’m surprised by a gargantuan exhale, trailed by a climbing, icy mist that eventually falls like tiny snowflakes before blending into the atmosphere and disappearing into my flesh.

Then a pause.

Then inhale, exhale. Each of these life-sustaining actions alternating in perfect timing.

The momentary amnesia I’m having subsides and is replaced by a Goliath-sized fear that invades all of my senses and screams, "Get up. Run!" But I’m still paralyzed.

The book of life opens before my eyes and the pages begin to turn, slowly at first then gain speed, displaying a reenactment beginning with my conception.

I feel the blood draining from my head.

I become woozy.

I am with Orca.

Oh, it’s Only a Dream

I bolt upright as though I was just raised from the dead by two thousand volts of electricity delivered by a defibrillator. With my eyes wide open, my heart is racing fiercely.

It’s pitch black, which doesn’t help quiet the pounding rhythm.

I try to focus on my surroundings and became aware of someone or something breathing. Instinctively, my body tenses.

Whatever I’m hearing it’s very near.

Not again!

No, no, this breathing is shallow and soft.

Eventually, my eyes shed their final layer of sleepiness and I can make out muted shapes, the color of a shadow. I look down in the direction of where my legs are swathed in a papoose of eight-hundred-count, one-hundred-percent cotton sheets. At the same time, I give thanks to God and exhale with relief when I realize I’m in my bed and the soft breathing is coming from my husband.

Holy shit, what a dream! I whisper loudly.

More like a nightmare. Boy, I can’t wait to tell Jack.

I look over at the alarm clock on the nightstand on his side. 4:00 a.m., which means he’ll be getting up for work in an hour. I don’t dare disturb him just to talk.

A loud yawn escapes me and I hope it won't wake him. No, he sleeps like a half-dead dog. Lucky him. I'm always jealous of how deep he goes when he turns in for the night—and how quickly.

Orca...why did I dream about them?

Yes, they are magnificent, highly intelligent beings. Whenever I think about how they are jailed in small cells, it stirs a deep sadness. The marine parks are crafty. With their clever and aggressive PR, they manage to fool millions of people into thinking that the mammals are actually better off in that environment—that the orcas enjoy being confined to tiny concrete areas and love being made to perform for their meals.

All lies.

The notion of holding any type of marine mammal in captivity is abusive. Even worse is how they capture them. I can only hope that someday the orcas will be free once again.

Ho-hum, I can’t keep my eyes open. I’m exhausted. I wonder why, since my day was just like any other—undemanding, both physically and mentally.

I’ll tell Jack all about it in the morning...

My So-called Life

Morning has arrived and it’s a reassuring feeling knowing where I am at this moment—in my comfy pillow-top bed.

Like a java-hound, I’m smellin’ the unmistakable scent of brewed coffee wafting from the kitchen.

Jack usually rises about a half an hour before I do on weekdays and always makes a fresh pot for me after he downs the one he makes for himself. The aroma kick-starts me on most mornings, prompting me to jump out of bed as if I just found out I won the PowerBall. This morning is different. My mind is into it, but my body hurts. Strange, because I don’t recall doing anything to give it reason to hurt. Mostly it's my left side, from my shoulder to my foot.

I manage to shimmy to the edge of the mattress and drop my right leg over the side. I pull my left leg in the same direction. When both feet are firmly on the floor, I traipse into the kitchen.

I must look unusual this morning because when Jack sees me he does a double-take. The movement is subtle, but I notice. He looks at me a little too long before saying, Good morning.

When you’ve been married to the same person for nearly ten years, you read them like an open book. I read Jack and he’s trying not to alarm me when he asks, feigning a casual tone, Babe, are you feeling sick?

No, why? Do I look sick? There is a slight hesitation before he answers.

Well, then maybe you just had a restless night.

While Jack is at the counter filling my cup, I take my usual seat at the kitchen table. He sets my coffee down on the placemat in front of me but I don’t bother to take a sip. Instead, I take this opportunity to pour out the details of my nightmarish dream as Jack takes his seat opposite mine. I tell the story as I do every story—loud, excited and overly animated. A bit too much for my quiet husband, but he always listens before he reminds me of my highly charged imagination.

Jack, do you think it really happened, that whole body-mind journey thing? It certainly felt real to me. Before I finish asking, I am getting up and walking the two strides it takes to reach the other side of the table so Jack could see for himself. Look, I have the bruises to prove it.

He is focusing on the area I’m showing him with exaggerated intensity and asks, Can you describe the orca?

No, I can’t describe it, I answer, a little too snappy maybe. A tiny smirk appears on his face and I start to doubt myself.

I slowly make my way back over to my chair but remain standing and reach for my cup. Just before it touches my lips, I stop and place it back on the mat. With a far-away expression, I turn to him.

"Jack, it was massive, the biggest I ever saw. Well, you know; I never saw one up close, but I can differentiate size pretty good.

Jack’s lips form a tight-mouthed smile before prompting me, Go on.

I wasn’t sure if he was teasing, but the picture of the orca became more vivid by the moment and I wanted to share it.

His dorsal fin was over six feet―taller than you, Jack! When he breached, I could see his left side was covered with parallel-lined scars, maybe twenty or so, some as long as two feet. I pause remembering rake is what it’s called when an orca uses its powerful teeth to dig into the flesh of another.

Jack, I can’t believe I remember everything about him. I think it’s a male judging by the size.

That would be a bull orca, Jack explains.

Yes, it was a bull orca, I say just before I am about to take a longing sip of my now lukewarm coffee but decide otherwise. I slowly put the cup down again and look Jack straight in the eyes with all the seriousness of a state trooper about to write a citation to some unlucky motorist. With precision recall, I continue describing the orca’s special markings.

His flukes were large measuring maybe ten feet across, and there was a geometric diagonal patch of bright white in the top corner of the right fluke. Almost as if the color from its underside spilled over onto a small section producing a foot sized obtuse triangle. Or better yet, a mainsail with the tip of the fluke as the masthead.

I stop talking now, out of steam and any additional information.

Ah, my dear wife with the whimsical mind. That’s what I love about ya, but no Della, I don’t think it was real.

But, Jack! I challenge him, once again bringing up the bruises while pointing at them. Look, there are abrasions all up and down my leg. I don’t remember scraping myself.

Honey, you probably did it when you were pulling weeds yesterday and are just now feeling the discomfort. Della, you know how you get. Charged up and thinking the impossible has happened.