The dark blue water stretched for miles behind them. Its depths concealed untold secrets, waiting to be discovered at the very bottom of her fathomless ends. The ocean was one of the last vestiges of the natural world, and she resisted man-made incursion at every turn.
Crimson specks of blood splashed into the abyss. The blood called out to all manner of predators, spilling from the belly of a great queen. Once, that queen roamed where she pleased and feared nothing, ruled by primal instinct and backed by her ferocious jaws. Now, she would be nothing but a distant memory. Her huge jaws hung agape, a sad reminder of the cruelty man inflicted.
The marine biologist pushed her long hair from her eyes, securing it in an elastic to keep the wind from tangling it into further knots. A single tear trailed down her cheek, mourning for the loss of the fantastic creature before her.
The shark's belly looked swollen, likely with pups she would have carried for around a year, maybe more. They would never see the light of day or swim through the endless depths looking for their next meal. In one swift, brutal action, an entire family was snuffed out.
"Dr. Carter, we're about to dock," the grizzled boat captain shouted over the waves.
Back at the lab, with the large female's body laid out along tarps on the floor, she organized her tools.
"Autopsy of Atlantic Carcharodon carcharias on October 22, 1995 at 2:52pm in conjunction with OceanVue Marine Science Division. We received a call late last night of shark finning in the Bay and deployed a team alongside USCG. The suspect ship departed prior to our arrival. 4 deceased specimens were located along a 2 mile stretch," she donned a pair of goggles as she rattled off her notes for the recorder.
"Specimen #3 from the Bay incident, satellite tagging indicates the given name "Mother Nature" is a deceased adult female, approximately 30 to 50 years of age. Cursory visual examination leads me to believe she is pregnant, or recently gave birth. Female is 5.639 meters long, 2.3 meters in height. Weigh station clocked approximately 2.4 tons."
Faith stopped along the lateral line and bent down. She reached a hand out and gingerly traced a large scar down the shark's flank.
"A recently healed scar midway between the snout and first dorsal indicate a run-in, possibly with a boat, that progressively healed."
"There's claw marks on her snout, recent I think," Neil, the research assistant said as the phone in the small attached office rang.
"Good observation. One of her last meals probably put up a fight." Faith's dark eyes roamed over the body, studying her as if she were a map. "Do you see these marks here?" She asked, pointing to the right pectoral fin. "This looks like a bite mark."
He nodded and pulled out a small tape measure.
"Fully healed, only faint scarring located between the right-side flank and pectoral fin; healing indicates anomalous dermal denticles. Maybe another white did this to her, around 4.5 meters in length based on the bite radius. Odd spot though."
"Must've been deep," she said as she leaned back on her heels to examine the underside of the fin. "If the bite was from a fight, I'd expect to see more evidence of shredding, closer to the snout or caudal fin…"
The phone rang again, followed by the office door opening. Jane, the slender blonde volunteer clerk, nearing her late 50s, approached them and wrinkled her nose at the smell.
"Hate to interrupt, but you have a call."
"We're right in the middle of it Janey, can't you take a message?" Neil asked, clicking off the tape recorder.
"I would, but it's the fourth time he's called since you left last night. Said his name was John Clemens and it's urgent."
Faith knit her brows together, preoccupied with the strange bite mark.
"Alright Neil, go ahead and get started. Make sure you note anything else significant, double check organ and if there are any, pup measurements and weight."
Faith followed Jane back to the office and slumped into one of the chairs. She rubbed the sleep from her tired eyes. Jane pushed a steaming mug of coffee toward her.
"I don't know what we'd do without you."
"You need more sleep, sweetheart," Jane replied as she sat in the chair opposite Faith.
Faith had known Jane for most of her life. When Faith's mom passed, Jane stepped in to help raise the rebellious young teen, giving her some form of maternal affection to counter her father's stern countenance.
"I'm going to crash the second I'm done here."
Faith dialed the number noted on the pad of paper. Last she had spoken to John, he was working in a lab in Chicago. A pleasant sounding secretary answered and transferred her call, and within seconds she heard her college mentor's voice over the line.
"Faith, you're a hard woman to get ahold of these days," John joked. "Busy chasing all those fish in the sea."
"Hey, you know how it goes. Funding is limited and you do the best you can with the time you're given."
"That's why I work in the private sector. It has its drawbacks, but worrying about funding and explaining your work to laymen isn't one of them. Usually."
"Not that I'm not glad to hear from you, but what's so urgent? I'm neck deep in innards, literally speaking."
"Right, sorry. It would be better if we could speak in person. I know you're busy, but I promise it'll be worth your while. You'll be away for 3, 4 days, tops."
Faith drummed her fingers on the desk.
"I have a meeting tomorrow, but I can meet you after that-"
He cut her off, "No need, I took the liberty of arranging your travel accommodations. My current employer serves on the OceanVue board, and they are eager for you to attend. There's a helicopter on standby."
"What?" She asked incredulously.
"My employer is very interested in your work. I've tried calling but you've been unreachable."
"John, I'm literally about to cut open a potentially pregnant female. And I haven't been home since yesterday."
"Umbrella will take care of whatever you need. Come as you are. Your research assistant can handle the necropsy?"
Faith glanced at the wall clock, trying to figure out a way to stall. The chances of dead and pregnant females falling into a researcher's lap were luckily and incredibly rare. So rare in fact, this would only be her second.
"Sorry John, she's too important. But if it means that much to you, I'll leave right after."
"Very well, I'll let the pilot know to expect you around midnight," John sighed reluctantly.
"Then I'd better get to work, see you soon," she said, hanging up.
"I'll stop at your apartment and grab you a change of clothes, dear," Jane said, holding Faith's spare key.
"You're the best."
"Of course. And please, take care of yourself. Get some rest."
Faith laughed under her breath, thinking it wasn't likely she'd get to rest anytime soon. She took a minute to pour two more cups of coffee before rejoining Neil. They had a lot of work ahead of them if she was going to make John's deadline.
"Dr. Carter?" a black clad security guard asked, pulling her from her thoughts on the earlier necropsy. The bite mark along the pectoral fin puzzled her.
"Yes."
"I'll take you to Dr. Clemens now, follow me," the guard said as he handed her a security badge, "please make sure this remains visible at all times."
She followed him from the cold waiting room as she pinned the badge to the front of her t-shirt. She felt woefully under dressed and ill prepared for the meeting. At least she'd been able to change her clothes after the necropsy, but she'd kill for a shower.
Several hallways later, they stopped at a wooden door. The guard knocked and she followed him into a well appointed office. A slightly built man with shaggy hair stood in the center of the room reading from a hefty file. He glanced up at her with a smile.
"Faith, it's nice to see you," John Clemens greeted her.
"Likewise, although I will admit I would've prepared better with a bit more time," her tone remained polite, but she raised a quizzical brow, hoping for an explanation. "I'm not used to cloak and dagger midnight meetings."
"I'm sorry. We've had a crucial breakthrough in an important project, and our founder is eager for your input. And you're difficult to get ahold of."
"So what is this project? Your calls are few and far between, and never followed up with a waiting helicopter."
"Project Neptune is highly classified and Spencer, Umbrella's founder, wants to fill you in personally. But I promise, it's right in your wheelhouse."
"I appreciate that, but I'm already contracted with OceanVue."
"A simple transfer. In exchange for one year of your time, Umbrella will finance your next projects, for a period of 5 years. Whatever and wherever you please. With the stipulation that we get access to copies of your research and data."
"What's the catch, John?" She asked, eyes wide with interest.
"Here's the transfer contract which generically lists the nature and scope of your duties. This one outlines the remaining terms regarding your funding after contract completion," he flipped through pointing at various pages. "You should review them at your earliest convenience."
"Thanks, I'll read this over."
Her throat felt dry and she swallowed. The offer seemed too good to be true.
"But can I ask; why me? I'm hardly the most qualified."
"I need someone I can trust," he said after a long pause, recovering quickly. "We'll meet with Spencer tonight. He's hosting several of the Umbrella executives at a dinner party. Security will take you into town and help you get anything you need. Oh, and be sure to dress for dinner, the people we're meeting with tonight are... not like us. Spencer is some sort of British aristocrat."
"Are you telling me I smell like fish guts?" She asked with a small smile as the guard held the door open for her.
John laughed in response. The smile fell from his face as the door closed, and he let out a small sigh. He wasn't sure if he hoped she'd accept or if she'd run away and never look back.
Faith pinned her hair off to the side, admiring the way her curls hung loose to the middle of her back. Adjusting the strap of her dress, she double checked her appearance once more. She looked far more confident and put together than she felt, but it was important to make a good impression. Despite her apprehension about the job offer, networking was vital to young researchers. Additional funding from a generous donor could always be at the next dinner party, and studying sharks was expensive.
She loved her work more than anything. What she didn't enjoy was the politics involved with grants and funding, and the pompous attitudes that sometimes came along with it. She'd been dealing with men and women like that her entire life.
Men like her father. He was a military man for much of his life, working in some type of command role. He domineered any room he entered, and appeared larger than life. Faith wasn't sure exactly what he did as it was 'classified', but she knew he was well respected and rarely home, even when she was a child.
A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. It was time.
"Let's get this over with," she said to her reflection.