Red Tide

By Mark Breinholt

If you have ever witnessed an actual red tide in full bloom at night, you know how incredibly beautiful the electric-blue light explosions of color with every disturbance of the water can be. However, as with an atomic mushroom cloud billowing into the sky, which is also an incredible sight, the underlying destructive power has the capability to destroy life as we know it.

This book is a work of fiction full of drama and suspense, but it also explores the real dangers the world could face with a massive red-tide event, which could result from the ever-increasing levels of pollutants dumped into our waters. It also addresses the real threat of a pandemic caused by an engineered virus, which would make the novel coronavirus akin to the common cold in comparison. How far has science come in understanding viral engineering? Enter the TA virus and a new cold war!

Ken Shakel—a relentless reporter, trying to understand threats facing not only his own family but the rest of the world.

Doug Smith—a renowned marine scientist, trying to convey to the world the arrival of what he knew for years was inevitable.

Alexandria Jane Smith—a woman no one should mess with, including the CIA!

“He surfaced and swam to the juvenile that was still alive. Its breaths were weak; it was dying. Doug stroked its body with his hand and looked into its eye… It slowly closed, and Doug knew it would never open again. He pressed his ear against the body, closed his eyes, and listened to a slowing heartbeat, bump-bump, bump-bump, bump…and it stopped. He held onto the creature for a moment, feeling a deep sadness.”

Could the world’s salvation depend upon the one animal on our planet with a brain three times larger than a human’s?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781662405204

Book preview

cover.jpg

Red Tide

Mark Breinholt

Copyright © 2020 Mark Breinholt

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2020

Cover art by Sean Breinholt

ISBN 978-1-6624-0519-8 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-0520-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Introduction

When we see a view of the earth, our home, a beautiful blue-and-white gem hanging in stark contrast against the dark background of space, it is hard to imagine there is intelligence born from it threatening not only their own existence but also the earth’s ability to sustain its incredible diversity of life. Will the only creatures with the ability to view the earth in its entire beauty from the reaches of space allow its destruction by their own hand? Most human waste, millions of tons of it annually, from cities, agriculture, and industry, over 90 percent of all the waste humans create ultimately ends up in the oceans, primarily through drainage and river systems as well as air pollution. The oceans are being poisoned and are rapidly dying, and if we allow the oceans to die, the earth will die as we know it! It is currently a greater threat to our survival than global warming; human-caused climate change may eventually destroy the earth if drastic steps are not taken to stop it, but pollution of our waters is a more-difficult problem to address, and it is an immediate and imminent threat.

From a high altitude above the earth we can view the flow of pollution and waste into river systems and then to the outlets of major rivers and into the oceans. There is a distinct difference in the color of the water due to the concentration of pollution, a dirty, yellowish color clearly visible as it swirls and mixes in with the ocean water for hundreds of miles.

If we take an aerial journey to the Nile, Ganges, Mississippi, or any major river in the world where they meet the sea, we can see pollution from human activity spewing into the oceans. Let’s pick one of these rivers, one of the most beautiful; say we end up at the mouth of the Columbia River on the west coast of the United States, a beautiful river on the surface, but then consider the massive agricultural activities in Idaho and other surrounding states: the Hanford nuclear site, wood pulp mills, human garbage, and know that millions of tons of nitrogen from fertilizers and animal waste, nuclear waste, and plastics are introduced into the pristine Columbia River every decade. We could follow a meandering ribbon of pollution from the mouth of the Columbia down the west coast of the United States to the shores near Los Angeles, California, where it slowly wisps away and seemingly disappears just as it reaches the beaches and tidal pools.

Here we begin.

Chapter One

On a secluded beach just South of Los Angeles County, rimmed by upscale homes, a father watched his young boy playing near a tidal pool; he’s fighting an invisible foe with an imaginary sword. The boy’s name was Austin.

Ken cherished every moment as he relaxed out on the deck of his beachfront home after a hectic workday. The sunset caught his attention as it always did, silky clouds ignited by brushstrokes of fire. Shades of crimson and gold swept across a deep-blue sky. A final glint extinguished as the sun disappeared into the sea, bringing an end to the day.

Too often he missed moments like this with the long and unpredictable hours of a reporter for the biggest Los Angeles news station; he sometimes felt self-guilt about not spending enough time with Austin.

What a beautiful sunset, Ken thought to himself as he stood up from his lounge chair with fork in hand and opened the lid of the barbeque; he leaned back, squinting his eyes as the heat hit his face, fanning billows of smoke with his free hand while turning steak and shrimp shish kabobs. He closed the lid and slouched back down in his chair, taking in the view once more.

Still lamenting to himself, God, I miss this. This is the first time in a week I’ve been able to have dinner with my family. Why does everyone think my job is so easy? Maybe I was a little overdressed for the wharf today. He thought back and relived one of the least savory highlights of his day:

The camera crew was set up where the captain of a fishing vessel had unloaded his catch. The captain was in the process of gutting a fish. Tanya was one of Ken’s crew members and responsible for prescreening the interviews. She was young, bright, and ambitious. Ken knew she would make a great reporter someday. Ken held a microphone in his hand, ready to begin the interview.

How do I look?

Ken got a nod, a cheesy smile, and thumbs-up from his cameraman, Nick, about the same age as Tanya, but half as bright and a little obnoxious from Ken’s point of view.

You look great, Tanya chimed in. She was always eager to support her boss whom she loved and respected.

Ken grabbed the mic and looked into the camera, saying, This is Ken Shakel with Channel 7 news standing with Captain Jack Riley, a third-generation fisherman. The camera panned back, showing a stark contrast between Ken in his sharp dress and the fisherman’s bloody white apron, brow sweaty and grimy. As we all know, seafood prices have skyrocketed over the past year due to dwindling catches, and it is severely affecting the fishing industry, particularly hard hit are independent fishermen like Captain Riley here. Ken turned his gaze from the camera to the captain and said, Captain Riley, can we ask you how you are coping with this downturn, and do you have any ideas about why it’s happening?

Just call me Captain Jack, that’s how I go around here, the captain said boisterously. He then paused, looking Ken up and down, That’s a nice suit, he said as he held out his hand toward Ken.

Ken impulsively shook it before thinking. Fish blood and scales were slimed across his palm.

Uh, thanks, Ken muttered as he looked for something to wipe his hand on.

Trying not to ruin the interview and nothing clean handily available, Ken discretely wiped the mess off on his suit. The captain, a burly man not afraid to do the dirty work usually delegated to the crew or dockworkers, gave Ken a big toothy smile as he picked up a bloody knife he had been using on the fish. As he began to speak while shaking the knife toward Ken, Ken thought to himself, That the son of a bitch slimed me on purpose.

But then, the big man’s smile disappeared, and he suddenly sounded beaten down as he spoke, I don’t usually work at this end of the business. I’ve got seven boats, and six of them are idle. What you see here is the result of a full day out, hardly enough to pay for the diesel I used to catch ’em. You notice diesel prices lately? I’ve had to let most of my crew go, can’t sell my boats, and outside of a miracle I’ll be bankrupt soon. I don’t know what will become of all the people I know in this business and the rest of my employees.

Ken found himself beginning to like this guy. He was rough around the edges, but you could tell by his voice he really cared more for others than for himself; the scarred hands and deep furrowed lines in his face made it obvious he had worked hard all his life.

Captain Jack, it sounds pretty bad. What kind of future do you see for the industry, and why do you believe this is happening? Ken asked.

The captain just stood in silence for a few moments, and Ken could see he was becoming upset. He jammed his knife deep into the counter in front of him, where it stood solid. He placed his hand next to it, supporting his large slightly bent frame of a body as he spoke.

There is no future. The captain’s voice was cracking with emotion. There was an uncomfortable pause as he tried to maintain his self-control. As he continued, his voice became steady, but loud and stern, I’ve told my kids to stay out of this business, and this family legacy is over! You want me to tell you why this is happening? It’s happening because we allow all these foreign fisheries to come over to our side of the world with their huge vessels, processing factories and refrigeration units built right in, and clean us out. Hell, they can’t even make a profit, but their countries keep subsidizing ’em to keep ’em goin’, doesn’t make any sense!

Captain Jack finished his rant by pulling the buried knife out of the countertop with a surprising quickness, took the head off a fish lying on the counter, and began to filet it, all within a split second. Ken could see it was his way of regaining his composure and that he was done with the interview.

Ken shook the thoughts of that interview from his head as he heard a faint ha, ya, ya… His attention was captured by his son Austin and the magical world of a ten-year-old’s imagination. He was playing down at the tidal pools, wielding a stick, which must have been transformed into a swashbuckler’s blade or maybe a lightsaber. He had obviously defeated an imaginary villain now lying in the tidal pool and was finishing him off with a few final thrusts.

The fish was a good three feet long, and Austin wondered how it got into the tidal pool and died. But for now, it was a demon from the deep with a gapping mouth and a big yellow-and-black eye staring up at him.

I will cut you to pieces, Austin said as he pretended to thrust his sword into its flesh with a ya, ya and a ha. Not dead yet? he asked the lifeless beast. He then stuck his stick under its huge jaw and made its mouth close and open repeatedly in cadence with his own words. I will eat you and your family. Austin projected the words out of the beast’s mouth in his lowest, meanest voice.

He then looked at the yellowish, odd-looking eye looking up at him. Did it move? He bent down toward it getting a closer look. The mouth began slowly opening on its own. Austin was momentarily mesmerized, and then the beast suddenly flopped up toward him. With a scream, he jumped back, lost his footing, and fell backward into one of the tidal pools. He jumped up as quickly as he could and stared at his new shoes through the rippling water.

Damn, now Mom’s going to kill me. I wasn’t supposed to get these wet, Austin muttered to himself frustratingly as he stepped out of the pool and regained his composure.

He picked up his fallen sword and carefully crept back to confront his foe once more. It was in the same spot and still looked dead. He poked it a couple of times, but it did not move.

Julia stepped out onto the deck, walked up behind Ken still sitting in his chair, and began massaging his neck. He squirmed in the chair; a moan of pleasure growled from deep within him.

Julia was Ken’s third wife. His first marriage ended after just two years when he discovered his wife was a closet drug addict, with other men hidden in that closet as well. Luckily, there were no children, but it was still a costly divorce. He lost his second wife, a wonderful woman he was dearly in love with, after just three months of being married. She died in a car wreck with a drunk driver. He met Julia six years later, just about the time it took to begin getting over the heartbreak. During that six-year period he didn’t think much about women other than a few purely sexual encounters. He became a workaholic, but it paid off, starting out as a typesetter for the newspaper. He worked his way into becoming a highly respected investigative reporter with the station. However, the biggest payoff was meeting Julia ten years ago, having interviewed her regarding a serial killer; Julia being one of the top criminal psychologists in the State.

So how was your day, Mr. Reporter? Julia spoke in Ken’s ear in a calm, sexy voice.

It seems to be getting better, oh yes, Ken said just as her hands hit a sweet spot, wishing time would stand still.

Tough one, huh? she asked.

If you like a big angry fisherman named Captain Jack wielding a knife in your face and the smell of fish guts, it was okay. I have to go to the cleaners in the morning. My suit smells like caviar, Ken lamented. I’m on tonight if you want to watch it, he added.

Julia bit his ear and whispered, Sure, and I just happen to love caviar. Now you better get your son, and let’s eat dinner, oh, and you better check that barbeque it looks a little hot, she said as she rolled her eyes toward the barbeque and turned to walk back into the house.

Ken’s entrancement was suddenly over as he noticed the smoke billowing from under the lid.

Oh shit!

He jumped up and opened the cauldron of smoke and fire, quickly grabbing one of the shish kebabs he had so proudly assembled. He frantically blew on the stick that was on fire, extinguishing the flame; but then realizing it was still too hot for his fingers, he quickly threw it down on a plate and repeated the process with the rest of them.

I think they’re okay. The onions are just a little crispy, he said to himself while closely inspecting the little blackened blobs. He then looked up at Austin and yelled, Austin, it’s time to eat. Ken saw Austin quickly glance up and then continued poking at something with his stick. Ken yelled a little louder, Austin, let’s go!

Austin drove his saber deep into the sand to be retrieved later and ran as fast as he could up to the house.

Dad, you should see this fish, it’s this big! Austin yelled as he stretched his arms out as far as they could reach.

That big? Ken asked with some exaggeration in his voice.

Come and see it, Dad! Austin said with a hopeful look on his face.

Ken put his hand on Austin’s shoulder as he spoke, Maybe tomorrow. Let’s eat dinner. Your mother’s waiting.

Go wash your hands, Ausie, Julia said as soon as Ken and Austin walked through the door. And hurry, sweetheart. Your dad’s on in a few minutes.

Cool! Austin said as he darted for the bathroom. Wet footprints were left behind.

Austin, your shoes! Julia said in despair, but Austin was already out of earshot. She directed her lament toward Ken, I just bought those shoes, but she could see she was talking to deaf ears regarding the subject.

Ken was standing with his plateful of blackened shish kebabs, inspecting them closely.

Are they okay? Julia asked with concern.

Sure, they’re a little overcooked, but they’ll taste fine. If you didn’t distract me so much, beautiful, they would have been perfect, Ken said as he set the plate down, grabbed her, and squeezed her bottom with both hands while kissing her neck.

You know how to get out of trouble, she said with a smile and a return kiss.

After everyone sat at the table, Julia grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

Aren’t these burnt? Austin asked as he inspected one of the shish kebabs on his plate.

Just try it. They’re pretty good, Ken mumbled as he chewed away at a mouthful.

Julia smiled as she used her fork and knife to scrape some cinder from a shrimp on her plate. She looked at Austin, who was looking disgruntled at his plate.

Try the salad sweetheart, she said to him.

Ken looked up at the TV and nodded toward it, This is it.

Julia grabbed the remote and turned up the sound.

Linda Lockhart, one of the station’s anchors, was setting up the story: "Hammered by soaring fuel costs, foreign competition, and government regulations, the local fishing industry in LA harbor that once included over three hundred vessels has been reduced over the past few years to fewer than two dozen. To make things worse, seafood prices have increased dramatically recently as catches appear to be declining worldwide. Investigative reporter, Ken Shakel, is in San Pedro on the docks with more on this story, which we will be airing as a special each Thursday evening over the next three