Local Hero Saves Town

In an inspiring tale of selflessness, a local rancher has single-handedly secured the town’s economic stability through his precautionary foresight and charitable spirit. Geoffrey Ford was born in the slums, where he had to fend for himself as an impoverished youth.

“Those were tough times, dark times. I tell all the children I meet that every meal is a gift and that they should never take even the simplest things for granted.” Despite a rough start, Geoffrey climbed out of poverty, as he told the Herald in an exclusive interview.

“For me, the turning point was when Mr. Jebediah Jones started the Opportunity School. I couldn’t believe I was allowed to enroll—it opened my mind to everything I could do and truly changed my life.”

Geoffrey’s journey from poverty to prosperity is nothing short of remarkable. “My first job was begging, believe it or not. Then, I got a newspaper route. From there, I did everything from sweeping chimneys to shining shoes and baking pies.”

“We appreciate Mr. Geoffrey’s industriousness and precautionary measures,” said Mr. Finley, an aide to the mayor. “The city thanks Mr. Geoffrey. He’s a living reminder that every child of the city is a treasure that should be nurtured.”

The professor placed the paper down, glancing at Joey’s frown. “What do you think?” she asked. “You don’t seem convinced by the praise?”

Joey hesitated, considering his response. “I want to believe he’s a hero,” he began carefully. “I’ve known him since childhood, and my dad invested in his future. But maybe I’m reading too much into things. There’s no denying he’s done great things for the city. I guess time will tell if he’s really a hero. How about you, professor? Did your research turn up anything interesting?”

The professor opened her notepad and slipped on her glasses as though beginning a lecture. “Let’s start with the more obvious findings. First, I can confirm that so many different types of clines appearing so close together is unheard of in nature.”

“Well, that was a given based on what you told me yesterday,” Joey replied.

“Right. But in addition, I researched meteorite compositions worldwide and found nothing that could explain the lake’s sudden change in salinity.”

“Okay, so whatever this phenomenon is… it’s the first of its kind?”

“Exactly. I also used the university’s lab to examine the lake samples more closely. I can confirm that ammonia levels haven’t spiked.”

“Which means…?” Joey prompted, leaning in.

“It means nothing is dying in the lake. Usually, when there’s a high death rate in water, bacteria breaking down the organisms produce ammonia. But here, levels are stable.”

“That fits with the fact that different creatures are sticking to distinct layers within the cline.”

“Right. However, it also suggests that the water rearrangement happened so suddenly and precisely that it didn’t harm the ecosystem. In a shift of this magnitude, you’d expect some casualties, at least. It’s baffling. The odds of such a well-organized, massive change are infinitesimally small.”

“What about an underwater eruption?”

“No signs of sulfur compounds. We can rule that out.”

A thoughtful silence followed.

“So, does this mean we have no leads?”

The professor shook her head. “The meteorite theory still seems the most plausible. It’s too coincidental that a comet was sighted on the same day as the flood.”

“What’s our next step, then?”

“It’ll be a few days before we hear back from the surrounding towns. Our best lead is to wait for Dr. Link’s ship to arrive.”

“Shall we head to the camp, then?”

“Let’s go.”

*

Manors lined the clean, orderly streets, and a strong police presence ensured the area’s tranquility. Geoffrey had come to Mr. Wilson’s home in Rolling Hills, one of New Lisbon’s wealthiest neighborhoods.

Mr. Wilson stared Geoffrey down with piercing blue eyes. He dabbed at the sweat on his bald head with a handkerchief, his neatly trimmed mustache bristling as he regarded his guest. Age and weight gave him a round neck that bulged over his shirt collar, a sight that could unsettle the faint-hearted. Despite the older man’s attempt to appear superior and aloof in his leather chair, Geoffrey saw through the act. Mr. Wilson was struggling to keep his head above water. Rumor had it he’d recently thrown a fit at the bank after being denied a loan. And with his lawyer in the corner, Geoffrey suspected he wouldn’t be easily baited into another one of his clever deals.

“Thank you for seeing me today, Mr. Wilson,”

“Congratulations on making the front page,” Mr. Wilson sneered.

Geoffrey let the jab slide. “Thank you. You know how newspapers are—prone to exaggeration. You all are the real heroes if you ask me.”

“What do you want, Jeff?” Mr. Wilson asked, pouring himself a scotch and pointedly not offering any to Geoffrey. “Here to rip me off again?”

“Rip you off? I don’t know what you mean,” Geoffrey replied with genuine surprise. He was a practiced actor, a skill honed from years on the streets. Though he took no joy in deceiving others, he would need Mr. Wilson’s trust to move forward.

“You know what I mean. Your little maneuver with the contract. You weren’t fully honest with us.”

“It’s a misunderstanding, Mr. Wilson. I assure you, I’ve done nothing unlawful. Everyone had full access to the contract before signing, including you.”

Mr. Wilson shot his lawyer a scathing look, causing the man to shrink in his chair. “Just tell me what you want, Jeff. I have work to do.”

“Mr. Wilson, I know this year’s been tough on everyone.”

“Everyone but you,” the old man snapped.

“On the contrary. While managing everyone else’s cattle, my herds go unattended. I don’t enjoy watching others struggle; it keeps me up at night.” Geoffrey’s voice was sincere, and Mr. Wilson seemed briefly taken aback by his tone. “Let me state my purpose for this visit,” Geoffrey continued. “Since I’ve been paid partly in sea cow stock, I need space to expand my pens.”

“So?” Wilson’s anger resurfaced as Geoffrey brought up their previous dealings.

“I’d like to buy part of your property—specifically, the land by the lakeshore.”

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Wilson’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your angle, Jeff? You know the mayor won’t let us keep facilities on the shore after the flood. That land’s practically worthless to me now. Are you trying to cut me off from the lake?”

“Not at all. I need the extra space for my pens, and I’m willing to pay in cash.” Mr. Wilson dabbed his head with the handkerchief again. Money was tight, and even with the mayor’s aid, he was near bankruptcy. “I’m also open to having your lawyer draft an agreement that guarantees your lake access. You’d only need to pay rent, like when rail companies pay for track rights.”

“What if I want to keep a small piece of the land with lake access?”

“Come on now, Mr. Wilson. I need all the space I can get, and you need the cash. To make a good offer, I need the whole lakefront portion. If you insist on keeping a piece, my offer will be less generous. Take it or leave it. I could always go to Wilkinson instead.”

Mr. Wilson weighed his options, his mind turning. He needed cash urgently; the bank had refused him, and he was on the edge of losing everything. He didn’t want to be a tenant, but options were running out. The mayor had given him as much help as he could, and no one else was lending. His lawyer gave an approving nod.

With a resigned sigh, Mr. Wilson stood and extended his hand to Geoffrey. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

*

Dr. Link’s camp wasn’t far from where they’d visited yesterday. Though they called it a ‘camp,’ there were no tents; instead, the scientists had set up base in one of the old buildings at Wilkshire Port. This port was once a crucial stronghold, protecting the lake from pirates and ensuring the region’s safety. Nowadays, it was kept in decent enough condition to deter pirates from returning but not so well-maintained as to drain the city hall’s budget.

Dr. Link’s team had departed from here a few days earlier, promising to return by this morning. With no new leads, Joey and the professor decided to come early. Professor Lincoln, especially, was being received as if she were royalty.

“Can we get you anything else, Professor?”

“No, please treat me as a colleague and catch me up on your findings,” she replied.

The professor’s request for equal treatment seemed to send a ripple of excitement through the scientists, who looked nearly starstruck. Joey noticed more than one lab-coated figure inching closer to fainting. The emissaries of the Science Academy were not just respected; they were idolized.

After an awkward pause, a brief debate ensued over who would have the honor of presenting to the professor. Finally, one of the scientists spoke up.

“Well, Professor, our team arrived as soon as we heard about the incident. One of our first priorities was to check the health of the lake’s sirenians to see if the water changes had affected them.”

“And?” she prompted.

“The animals showed no signs of distress. At the same time, we ran every type of test we could think of on the water.”

“pH levels?” she asked.

“Normal.”

“What about minerals and metals?”

“All within standard parameters.”

“Nitrites and ammonia?”

As Joey heard her ask about ‘ammonia,’ he remembered that the Professor had already mentioned he tested it earlier earlier, which worried him. She was scrambling.

“Normal, Professor.”

“Anything else worthy of note?” she pressed.

“When we took one of the ranchers’ subs to explore, we found an unusual form of stratification,” the scientist continued.

“Clines,” the professor interjected.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Did you test the separate strata?”

“Yes, we did.”

“And...?”

“The only notable difference was in salinity—some strata are salty, while others are fresh.”

Professor Lincoln drummed her fingers thoughtfully.

The scientist continued, “Dr. Link wanted to go deeper into the lake, to take samples at various depths and see if the composition of the different strata changes further down. He said he’d be back today, regardless of what he found.”

“Good. In the meantime, have you tested the soil around the lake?”

The scientists exchanged uneasy glances. “No, we hadn’t thought to…”

“What about other animals?” she pressed.

“We’ve only examined the sea cows.”

“Then I need every type of creature from the lake quarantined. Brine shrimp, crabs, crayfish, mollies, alligators, sharks—one of each species, especially carnivores. Toxins accumulate at higher levels in the food chain, so I want detailed reports on any abnormalities.”

The scientists sprang into action, grabbing nets, fishing poles, and scurrying toward the small boats moored at the port. Meanwhile, Joey poured himself some coffee from a flask and settled in to wait for Dr. Link’s return.

They waited all morning—and then all day. But Dr. Link never returned.

*

Geoffrey looked at the blank canvas before him and tried visualizing what he was about to paint. Today, he’d woken up with a picture, a vision. It was a picture of a ship, cleanly cut into two, like a piece of butter cut by a scorching knife. It sank in the dark waters of the lake.

The scene was empty, devoid of people, and he knew this detail was essential. Geoffrey’s brush swept over the canvas, layering black paint for depth when a sudden commotion outside broke his concentration.

“…demand to see him!”

“I’m sorry. I have to check if he’s available.”

Geoffrey set his brush down, his gaze shifting to the source of the noise. Although he had only occasionally greeted the man in passing, he recognized him immediately.

“Mr. Ezekiel. What seems to be the matter?”

“You!” Mr. Ezekiel marched up to him, his face contorted with anger. “You poached all my best men! How dare you, Geoffrey?” He punctuated each word with a jab of his finger, his spit landing on Geoffrey’s cheek as the confrontation teetered on the edge of physicality.

“Please, Mr. Ezekiel. Let’s discuss this in my office.”

“I won’t have it, Geoffrey! I raised some of those men from when they were boys. I taught them everything! And now you’ve taken them all!” Mr. Ezekiel’s voice rose louder with each accusation. Behind him, Geoffrey saw Debbie retreat, likely to find reinforcements from the estate staff.

“Mr. Ezekiel,” Geoffrey replied calmly, “I’m not sure why you’re upset. Lately, many ranch hands have come to me, saying they’ve had their salaries cut or been let go. They asked me for work. Should I let those men fend for themselves on the streets when there’s work to be done here?”

“You sugarcoat your despicable acts, but you can’t fool me! I have ears in the taverns, too, Geoffrey. I know about the ‘mysterious’ man offering outrageous salaries to lure my best workers!”

“Mr. Ezekiel,” Geoffrey said smoothly, “I don’t understand why this has you so upset. Why not simply hire more men?”

“You know as well as I do they’re irreplaceable! Training new hands will take years. Without them, my estate is barely running at half-capacity!”

By now, several estate workers had gathered nearby, ready to intervene if tempers flared further.

“I’m sorry to hear about your troubles, Mr. Ezekiel. Why don’t we sit down and discuss a solution?” Geoffrey gestured toward his office.

“I hope that solution includes returning my men and offering fair compensation!” Ezekiel shot back.

“Let’s talk it over,” Geoffrey replied, maintaining his composure. “But first, may I pour you a drink?”

*

Fabius leaned on his desk for support. The bad news brought by Joey had almost brought the commissioner to his knees. “Did she stay behind in camp?”

Joey sighed. “Yes, sir. She took what was left of Dr. Link’s crew to run an exploratory mission in one of the subs.”

“What on earth could have happened to that ship?”

“I don’t know, sir. Should we organize a rescue operation?”

Fabius looked unsettled, an expression Joey wasn’t used to seeing on the usually composed commissioner. “I don’t know, Joey. It’s bizarre. There hasn’t been a shipwreck on this lake in decades, and the weather reports showed no signs of a storm or anything that might explain this. It’s all so strange.”

Joey swallowed hard. Seeing Fabius at a loss for answers was unsettling. The commissioner had always been confident, steady—never one to hesitate.

“So, what should we do?” Joey asked.

“For now, we need to keep this from spiraling into panic. I’ll send word to the mayor’s office. When the reporters come asking about Dr. Link’s expedition, we’ll shift their focus to the discoveries of those—lines, was it?”

“Clines, sir.”

Normally, Fabius would have given Joey a look for correcting him, but today, there was only a quiet, pensive nod.

“Clines. Talking about that will allow us to redirect attention away from the missing ship without lying. That should buy us time to figure out what happened to Dr. Link and his team.”

Joey shifted uncomfortably in his seat, uneasy with the idea of keeping the truth from the public. But as he considered the potential for widespread chaos, he gave a resigned nod. “What else, sir?”

“It’s time we found out what’s going on in the depths of that lake. I’ve already made arrangements. Get the professor. The mayor has given us access to the Albatross.”