After Effects
Chapter 1
An afternoon, approximately one year following the last chapter of "After All":
The blade of the sickle knife flashed in the sunlight as Gil Grissom carefully sliced into the soft underside of the dead sea turtle. A leatherback; by its size, a young adult male. After hatching, the male never returned to land. This one had washed up overnight on a narrow strip of rocky beach, reported to the park service this morning, and a ranger had called him.
This was his work; as an environmentalist, as a scientist, for one of the largest oceanographic organizations in the world, he was the contact for a number of agencies when endangered sea life—mostly turtles and whales, an occasional shark—was found dead along the coast. In three months, there had been four large turtles; this one was the fifth.
Taking a deep breath with the first cut, the air smelled of salt and earthy softness. Bird calls filled the air above him where the island's steep cliffs appeared to touch white clouds rolling silently through beautiful bright blue skies. Getting back to his work after a few seconds of diversion, Grissom carefully cut away the soft bottom of the leatherback.
The turtle was small enough for him to handle, easily rolling it to its back after photographing and examining for injury or some obvious reason for its death. Cutting through the layer of blubber took several minutes and then he peeled it back to reveal the turtle's organs.
Making a grunting sound as his eyes followed the digestive tract, he knew what he was going to find. Nothing was out of place, no scars, no odd growths showed up. The long winding tube of the esophagus circled the stomach as it should. Grissom shook his head as he moved the knife to soft tissue and sliced.
For an animal that lived its life in the oceans, eating mostly jellyfish, the leatherback had an interesting esophagus, designed to keep anything swallowed on a path to its stomach. Opening up part of the esophagus and stomach, he used his gloved hand to press on the tube, feeling a lump that should not be there, before exploring the stomach contents.
Immediately, his fingers touched what he knew he'd find. Wiping his hand on the apron he'd tied on before starting, he motioned for the man standing near him to take more photographs as he brought a wad of tangled plastic from the turtle's stomach. The lump in its esophagus was another tangle of plastic.
Holding the soggy mass in his hand, anger and sorrow competed for his emotions with sadness winning. Humans who would never see these magnificent creatures in their natural state were responsible for this one's death.
The leatherback turtle had one objective—to eat and, as Grissom knew, the largest turtle in the world often mistook plastic bags for jellyfish. Once swallowed, the bag went into the stomach and, as happened to this turtle, would block the digestion process. The turtle died.
Carefully, he cut several pieces of tissue from its organs, bagged those, as more photographs were taken before he folded the blubber and skin back in place. He removed his gloves and searched in his bag for a couple of stamped fabric tags which he clipped on the carapace and on one of the back flippers. The tags served as an identification method in case the turtle, or parts of it, were found in the next few days.
Stepping back, he looked at Jim Brass and said, "You didn't think you'd be doing this in retirement?" A smile tugged at his mouth.
His long-time friend, serving as his camera man, chuckled. "I thought we'd be in a boat in Lake Mead dropping a hook to catch our dinner—not cutting up dead turtles."
Grissom shrugged. "Yeah? Well, this is better for—for the future." He paused. "I think."
They packed everything into a waterproof duffel and placed it in the zodiac inflatable boat anchored a few steps away. Following guidelines of the oceanographic society, they looped a yellow rope around the turtle and prepared to haul it to deeper water.
Towing the turtle took longer than he thought it would; moving it beyond the cove, Grissom hoped the tide would take it further into the ocean. The small boat, freed of its burden, seemed to fly back to the larger boat where they stowed the duffle on board, washed hands, and checked currents and tides before they climbed back into the zodiac and returned to the secluded stretch of beach.
Grissom's eyes searched the coastline; once in the cove where soaring cliffs towered above the rocky beach, he spotted a flash of color. At that moment, he throttled the outboard motor until its high-pitched whine reverberated back from the steep precipice.
The flash of color quickly came together as humans and arms waving in his direction. He cut the motor and let the gentle surf carry the boat to shore where the arrival of two adults brought a celebration worthy of astronauts returning from Mars.
Three voices squealed with welcoming delight; two pairs of chubby toddler legs jumped in excitement as the babies tried to find forward momentum. The dark-haired girl-child, slim and agile, ran toward him and the boat. He caught her as she threw herself over the front bow, shrieks of laughter filling his ears.
The two small boys arrived with excitement that equaled their sister's and tumbled into the boat as Grissom tried to grab one and then the other until he was covered with wiggling legs and arms going helter-skelter while everyone giggling and chattered and babbled as if it had been weeks since he had left them on the beach and gone less than a hundred yards away.
Legs kept wiggling as Sara arrived, laughing, lifting her daughter into her arms as she extended a hand to Jim.
"They've been looking for you!"
After a few more minutes of scrambling, Grissom managed to get out of the boat and stand upright with a child in each arm.
His question of "What have you been doing without me?" brought more squeals and nonsense words from the two he held. He looked at his wife and daughter.
Sara's smile told him she was happy. Her dark wind-blown hair curled around her face; her cheeks tinged pink by the sun. Not for the first time, he was speechless by her appearance, by his good fortune, by this happiness he had as a husband and father.
In her mother's arms, their daughter's peal of laughter combined happiness and exuberance in innocence incomparable to any other sound. Only nine months older than the twin boys, she was years ahead in linguistic ability.
Clearly, she said, "Daddy, they have been moving rocks." Her small shoulders shrugged; her arms and hands flew outward. "Not even trying to help me build a castle!"
He laughed; he tilted his head back and let his laughter dismiss thoughts of dead turtles and plastic waste and pollution of the oceans.
Leaning to her, he kissed her upturned cheek and then kissed his wife before saying, "It's a wonderful day to build a castle, Cate. I'll help you."
A/N: Length depends...on you! Let us know what you think!