Page 61 of The Wild Beneath

“Maybe I can help.”

Evan shakes his head. “I still can’t even see it.”

“Probably too deep,” Henry responds. “It can reach the surface for now, but come high tide—­”

Annie remembers the humpback dying on Hale’s beach,her mom wedged up against it, in the water, trying in vain to push it back to sea.

She finishes for him: “It’ll drown.”

Walker insists on rowing the four of them in the dinghy, fast, through whitecaps and wind that works its way under the collar of Annie’s sweatshirt. She represses the terror of being in rough water so far from shore. Clouds pool overhead, threatening rain. The water is the colour of lead.

“We won’t be able to cut the lines around it,” Henry says. “Too tangled, too deep.”

Evan stiffens. “No one should get in the water with that thing. It could be deadly.”

“I’ll try,” Walker says.

“You could drown,” Annie says. “Or hypothermia.”

“It’s not that cold,” Walker says.

“It’s cold if you’re under for too long.”

Henry rubs his jaw. “I can’t think of a way to mercifully kill the poor thing. It’s not like we have a harpoon.”

Walker rows harder. It’s not long before they’re alongsideGalene. He roots around in a supply box under the seat and pulls out a pocketknife. “I’ll cut the net off,” he says.

“I’m going in with you,” Evan says.

“It doesn’t need two of us.” Walker pulls off his jeans. The dinghy rocks under his weight.

“No way you’re going in,” Annie says again. She puts her hand on his arm. “The water’s too rough.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” Walker’s grey eyes are unyielding.

“At least wear a life jacket.”

“I can’t dive with that thing on.”

“What if it eats you?”

Walker smiles. “If I leave her, she won’t be able to breathe.”

Why does he think the whale is a she? Annie looks into thewater and finally sees it—a shadowy body camouflaged by the water, a knobby dorsal fin and broad tail. A tangle of net pulls at its flukes.

“Careful with your knife so you don’t wound it,” Henry says.

Walker takes off his socks and stuffs them into his boots.

Another barnacled whale snout emerges at the surface. An eruption of breath plumes beside them, a few feet away, smelling of fish. Then a shudder. A low and cavernous growl.

“There’s more than one down there,” Evan says.

“I am not letting you do this,” Annie says, her voice escalating. “You’re not listening. You could drown!”

“I am listening.” He sits down next to her in his boxer shorts. “I have to do this.” The expression on his face is clear and unflinching. She stumbles over what else to say, how else to argue.

“You’ve got ten minutes.” Henry ties a guide rope around Walker’s waist. “Then we’ll haul you out one way or another.”