Page 2 of Swimming With the Sharks
Zotol shook his head, tears in his own eyes fromthe pain he could feel coming from his lover.“No, baby, Idon’t.”
“He...he’s going to go deep...deep seafishing.He can’t...he can’t swim with the shar...sharks like healways dre...dreamed be...because all the chem...chemotreatments have left his lungs weak.So he wants to at...at leastsee some.”Xolin stammered, and then cried some more.
Holding Xolin tight, Zotol thought about whathis mate was saying.This Foster’s life story had broken his mate’sheart and Zotol could understand why, but it didn’t make things anybetter for Zotol.His mate should never feel such hurt.And asXolin’s mate it was his responsibility to make things right, and heknew just what to do.
CHAPTER 1
Foster smiled as he walked out of the MarshalPoint-Port Clyde lighthouse museum.Although the story of a childkilled by some rum-runners was a sad tale, the museum itself wasstill very interesting.
He had first heard about this haunted lighthousewhen he was a kid and watched Forest Gump for the first time.Healways got a kick out of the fact that if you mixed the letters ofForest’s name up you could spell Foster...and he loved the scenewhere Foster Gump ran up the ramp to the lighthouse.It had caughthis attention and Forest had made quick work out of figuring outeverything he could about the place.
The paranormal world had always interestedFoster for as long as he could remember.It started with Scooby Dooand moved on to Buffy The Vampire Slayer.When his parents hadgiven him his first Kindle on his eighteenth birthday, Foster hadgone crazy with all the gay paranormal romances out in the cyberworld, and he still couldn’t get enough.
“Mr.Witman, are you ready to continue ourjourney?”The Captain asked.
Smiling, Foster replied, “I keep telling you tocall me Foster, Frank, and yeah, I’m ready to go.”
“Would you like me to show you a few morehaunted lighthouses or would you like to get started on yourfishing?”The Captain asked.
Feeling the energy he had before walking thelighthouse and the museum wane, Foster decided he should maybe resta bit.“You know what?How about if I go to my room and lie downfor a bit while you take me to a nice quiet fishing spot.RememberI don’t want to keep what I catch, and wouldn’t care if I didn’tcatch anything, but it would be cool if I got a chance to at leastsee some sharks while I’m doing it.”
“I have the perfect spot for you.It will takeus about an hour to get there.Will that be enough time for you torest?”The Captain asked.
Nodding, Foster replied, “It soundsperfect.”
Making his way to his quarters, Foster walkedinside and removed his shoes.Lying down on the bed, he closed hiseyes, letting out a long breath.Fuck, he felt drained.The chemohe had gone through before his parents were stopped with all theirstupid “it will be cured” treatments had really taken its toll.Foster knew he only had six months at the most without thetreatments, and he was fine with that, but damn it, he was going todo something he hadn’t done in his twenty-eight years of life.Foster was going to actually live!He was going to experience lifelike he had never been able to do under his parents’ thumbs.Oh, heknew his mom and dad loved him and that was why they had done whatthey had in order to keep him alive, but what they had neverunderstood was that just because his physical body was there forthem to see, it didn’t mean he was alive.No, he had been justexisting, and that was what Foster had hated so much in all thoseyears.
Foster had barely been able to attend school andthat was only when the cancer was in remission.He had never beento a high school dance and was recovering from a chemo treatmentduring the prom.He had never been on a date, or gone out to dinnerwith a date, nor had he ever had sleepovers, or gone camping orfishing, or...shit he hadn’t doneanything.All hisadventures in his life had been lived vicariously through the bookshe read, and for a long time that had been enough.It wasn’t untilhe had gotten older and watched kids outside throwing a football,or bouncing a basketball, laughing and joking, that the twinge ofloneliness hit him and the wish that he could do things like theother kids, but that was never meant to be for him.
Thinking about those days, he remembered theonly thing that could pull him out of his sadness was when SharkWeek came on.Holy shit, Foster loved that week.Watching thesharks jump out of the water trying to catch their meal andlistening to all the new discoveries man had been finding sincethey started going deeper and deeper into the water.However, asexcited as all of that was, Foster hated the idea that thesediscoveries might be causing havoc within the oceans.The problemwas, Foster still had to watch because nothing fascinated him morethan to learn all he could about such magnificent animals.How theysurvived the most trying times of today’s world.Climate change,pollution in the water, so many people exploring areas never seenbefore, and in turn invading their space.It never ceased to amazeFoster when people would be surprised about increases in sharkattacks along the coastlines, but really, who wouldn’t want toattack those that attacked first.It was humans who were destroyingthe waters and land of earth and what did they expect to happenwhen they dumped food and crap, literally and figuratively, intothe water from all the ships that sailed the oceans?
Knowing about the increase in shark attacksdidn’t deter Foster from wishing he could swim with them...justonce.However, with his lungs in such poor shape and the risk ofinfection due to his chemo treatments fucking up his immunesystem...there was just no way, but he could always dream.
Realizing his mind was going all over the place,Foster did his deep breathing exercises he had been taught when hissickness kept him awake at night.It didn’t take long until hefound himself slipping into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of swimmingwith the sharks.
* * * *
The knock on his cabin door woke Foster.Hestretched wide, calling out, “Yes?”
When the door opened, Foster watched as anextremely handsome man walked into his room.He stood about sixfeet tall with long black hair and had some well-defined musclesover a very nicely shaped body.However, it was the man’semerald-green eyes that truly stood out to Foster.They weremesmerizing, and for some reason made Foster feel as if there wasmore to the man than just a crewmember.There was something exoticas well as almost magical in feel coming off this man.
Shaking his head, Foster said to himself,You’ve been going to too many haunted lighthouses.He’s just aman.“Can I help you?”
The man smiled and gave a slight bow, “I amZotol.The Captain asked for me to come and get you.He said wehave arrived at our location and you won’t want to miss it.”
“Thank you.I’ll be right up.”Foster replied,rolling off the bed and stretching once more.
Noticing Zotol had not left the cabin, Fosterasked, “Was there anything else?”
Zotol tilted his head to the side, “Besidesbeing a bit too skinny, you don’t look like a man that is close todeath?”
Foster’s eyebrow raised, “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry, that was rude.My ma...husband isalways saying I need to remember to think before I speak.It’s justthat when last I saw you on that electronic contraption from hell,you had no hair and looked like skin over bones, or should I saygaunt, yet here you stand...yes, still too skinny, but you do havehair and your coloring is a bit pale, but you do have a littlecolor.”Zotol replied.
Sighing, Foster remembered seeing the viral postall over Facebook, Twitter, and even on the news.It had gotten hima great deal of attention that he hadn’t asked for or wanted.People seemed to recognize him no matter where he went, and wereconstantly badgering him with questions, or worse, looking at himin pity.It was one of the reasons he had chosen a private charterboat to travel rather than a plane or cruise ship.The funny thingwas, Zotol didn’t look as if he pitied Foster, but was morecurious, which must have been why Foster found himself wanting toanswer the man.
Running his hand over his short blond stubble,Foster said, “It’s been over a month, and since I gave up on thechemo I’ve been lucky enough to have it grow back a bit, and eventhough it’s still hard for me to eat, I no longer throw up what Ihave been able to swallow.As for my coloring, I guess it mighthave something to do with my nap, because I’m sure had you seen mewhen I came back from the museum you wouldn’t have seen quite somuch color.”