Chapter Eight
Three weeks…I have three weeks to get everything ready. It”s okay. Everything’s okay. I have time. But not today. Today we are releasing Trigger back into the wild, and it is going to be a long drive and a long day. The team is currently trying to get the tank truck ready for transport, and they are filling it with saltwater. It needs to be at a specific temperature before we can put Trigger inside. That is going to be a feat in itself because he does not like to be handled.
My eyes glaze over, watching the team in action from across the tank room. “Yo, Molls. You in there? Hello…,” Clara is standing in front of me, clipboard in hand, as my eyes come back into focus. She holds the clipboard out to me and motions with her head toward Trigger’s tank. “It’s time to give Trigger his pre-transport check-up. Ya ready?” I nod my head and shake myself from my haze as we move toward the tank, where Jimmy and Dusty are suited up, ready to maneuver Trigger into the shallows on his tank.
“Got any pointers, Molly? This is my first time in the tank with Trigger, and I have heard the stories.” Jimmy makes a face as he moves his eyes down my body to the place where Trigger munched on my butt.
“Yup. My advice for you is… don’t let him bite you in the rear.” He winces as he moves his eyes back up to meet mine. Poor kid. This is his first week on the job, and although he is proving to be pretty handy, he has no idea what he has signed up for.
Dusty shakes his head at me and Clara as he walks over to Jimmy, showing him how to use the net and explaining the technique he is going to use, while Clara and I stand on the sidelines, waiting with the cart for the handoff.
I watch Clara as she ogles Dusty in his springsuit, teasing her lip with her teeth as he looks over at her, winking. Her cheeks start to turn red and she moves her hands behind her back, glancing down at her feet.
“Oh my gosh, Clara, could you be any more obvious?” I push her shoulder, and she comes out of her infatuated haze.
“What? A girl can look, and he is certainly someone to look at.” Her eyes focus on him again, as though I’m not even there. He knows she is watching him, so he flexes his arm, showing off the muscles there.
“Ugh, I don’t know if I can watch the two of you anymore. Y’all are making me ill.” Clara stops fluttering her eyelashes at him, and scowls at me instead. “Are you sure making him your second in command is a good idea, Clara? You really shouldn’t mix work with…,” I swirl my finger around at Dusty as I continue to speak, “well… all of that. If you know what I mean.”
“Molls… you know how professional I am. I wouldn’t risk something so important to the both of us for a guy. You know that. But that doesn’t mean I can’t look. Remember that old saying our teachers used to say to us in school? Look with your eyes, not with your hands? Well, I am definitely looking with my eyes, but my hands will stay right here, in the safe zone.” She wiggles her fingers behind her back, making me laugh.
“Fine, if you think you can work with such a ‘stud muffin’,” I put my fingers up in air quotes as I say the words, “in close quarters, and be okay, then I trust your judgment.”
We watch as the ‘man child’ and the ‘stud muffin’ move to their own sides of the pen, much like Clara and I have done in the past when we had to trap Trigger, and begin to move toward the front of the pool. Trigger moves in a flash, and out maneuvers them both, splashing water over the side of the tank with his flipper as though saying “screw you” as he passes by. They both position themselves again, and we watch as Trigger evades them in pure Trigger fashion once again. Clara and I shake our heads and chuckle out loud as the men grumble and groan, trying to come up with a solution.
“Come on, Clara, I think we are going to have to help them.” We make our way to the lockers and race to change into our swimsuits and wiggle into our wetsuits. Ok, not wiggle, more like battle with our wetsuits and emerge victorious once again. The men are still trying to figure out how to get Trigger from one end of the tank to the other and Trigger is currently floating on the top of the water, like nothing out of the ordinary is happening. What a stinker.
Clara and I wade into the water and Trigger catches my eye and sinks under the water. Crap. Crap. Crap. Oh crap. Why does this turtle hate me so much? I slide my goggles on and stick my head under the water, blinking to adjust my eyes to the darkness of the water. I see movement in front of me, and I watch, in slow motion, as Trigger floats by my face, a glint of mischief in his eye as he changes direction and heads for Jimmy on the other side of the tank. I surface and motion to the others that he is headed in Jimmy’s direction, and we all position ourselves on all corners, two nets in the water and nothing but water and a turtle between them. Trigger literally has nowhere to go, and he knows it. I stick my head back under the water and watch as he swims closer and closer to Jimmy. I know what he is doing. This is what he did when he bit my butt. I surface and try to tell Jimmy to move when I see his face morph from one of concentration to one of pain.
“What the he–,” his words are cut off as his face changes again, to one of horror, as Trigger clamps down again. “He bit me again! He freaking bit me, twice!! I thought turtles weren’t supposed to bite.” He flails around in the water trying to scare the turtle away so he won’t get bitten again, and we all laugh as we get ready to try to catch Trigger.
“Okay, Clara, he is coming our way. Boys, you need to move closer as he moves toward us, and once we have him between the two nets, we will remove ours. We will move behind you in case he somehow gets under your net, but you should be able to get him the rest of the way to the shallow part of the tank and get him out. Ready? GO!” We all move in synchronization as Trigger becomes helplessly trapped. The boys get him to the shallow area, and we all grab a flipper, being careful to not let him snap at us as we strap him to the cart. We all high five, and the boys sit with Trigger, while Clara and I go and change back into our clothes.
That would be the very last time we would ever have to get him out of that tank. Thank goodness.
Clara and I change our clothes and cart Trigger back to the lab for his pre-relocation check-up. Everything looks good, his hydration levels are where we want them, and he is ready to go back to the ocean from whence he came. I have never been so happy in my five years of working here to say goodbye to a turtle. Good riddance, Trigger. May you never get cold stunned again.
We all work together, lifting Trigger into the small, padded tank of water for the trip. Green sea turtles can’t live without water as long as leatherbacks or loggerheads, so the eight-hour trek for Trigger has to be done in water. We grab all of the equipment we need for the journey and load up into the vehicles. Clara and I will be monitoring the water temperature from our computers in the cab of the truck, and Dusty and Jimmy will be following behind with an extra tank of temperature-controlled saltwater, just in case something happens to this one. Henry, the only other person who has been around as long as Dr. Kendrig, will be driving Trigger”s tank. Thank goodness he didn’t retire. It’s hard to find someone as knowledgeable about relocation sites, transporting sea turtles, and all of the other things that come with decades of experience rehabilitating the creatures.
He starts up the engine, and I nod to him as he presses on the gas, our little crew pulling out of the tank area and into the sunlight. I sure hope this relocation goes well, or it’s my butt on the line. I laugh out loud as I replay the image of Jimmy’s face in my mind. He showed us all the bite marks on his butt once we were all out of the tank. Not sure why he felt the need to flash us all his butt cheek, but he did. No wonder the kid yelled out in pain. I thought my butt bite was bad. His were already turning purple and were about the size of my fist. He will be feeling it for days. Clara looks over at me, a question on her face as we continue to drive.
“Just thinking about Jimmy’s bite.” I laugh again as Clara’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion.
“You’re thinking about Jimmy’s butt? Gross, Molls. He is like seven years younger than you.” Clara looks disgusted and I just stare at her in disbelief. She seriously thinks that?
“No, Clara, not his butt. Just laughing at his bite. Get your mind out of the gutter girl. I am not even remotely interested in Jimmy. No way. No how,” I stammer, an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. Her face relaxes into a grin and I glare at her response.
“Gotcha, Molls.” She busts up laughing, and I join in, as Henry just shakes his head at the both of us.
“Sorry you have to put up with us for the next eight hours, Henry.” He fans his hand in my direction and grunts. Poor guy. I bet he wishes he was stuck with the guys instead.