Encore
The second Orca show was set to begin in ten minutes. A thin stream of rust-colored liquid coursed its way down a handrail, over a small stretch of concrete, and was swallowed by a grate of the same hue. Kip, a bony malformation of a child, was pulling his mother to the splash zone when he noticed the curious liquid. He reached his hand out for it.
“Don’t touch that, Kip. You’ll get tetanus.”
He yanked his knotty arm back, unsure of what tetanus was, and seated himself next to his mother.
They watched the feats of the killer whale, applauding and laughing as they were covered in water each time the whale swam by.
“And now,” the voice pouring from the speakers above them said, “it’s time for the encore. For this feat the Orca will need a brave volunteer.”
The stadium exploded with the giddy screams of children and flailing hands.
“Mom, why don’t you go?” Kip pointed at the tank with one hand and held a camera with the other. “I’ll record it.”
Almost as quickly as she put her hand up a young man covered in acne scars wrapped his hand around hers and escorted her from Kip’s view.
The lights extinguished. Every child was pulled to the edge of their seat, their eyes fixed on the tank.
Kip removed the lens cap and opened the viewing screen. A light shot from behind them and steadied about ten feet above the tank. Something was being lowered. Kip focused the camera on the form as it fell into the orange light.
Blurred by the contrast, all Kip could see was the violent tugs and writhing motions the form was making.
“All right, boys and girls. Diotrato is going to need your help with the big jump. Let me hear some noise.” The voice was blanked out by the screams as the Killer whale circled, preparing for his encore.
Kip had solved the contrast problem and focused on the whale’s fin above the tank’s rim.
Screams began to issue loudest from the form above the pool, terrible screams, and Kip pulled the camera towards them.
His mother, bound and screaming, showed on the screen. Children clapped, their eyes wide, their mouths open spilling out cackles as the whale leapt from the tank.
The whale returned to the tank silencing the shrieks. The rope was empty and Kip dropped the camera, finally understanding what had happened.
The camera, fallen on its side, was nevertheless recording as the discolored grate hungrily drank the rust-colored fluid pouring down the splash zone handrail and over the concrete.