Rogue Wave

by Christopher Cartwright

  He wanted to reassure her as he would a child that everything was going to be okay, but she was too smart for that. She was the youngest person ever to obtain a Doctorate in mathematics from Harvard – she knew when she was being lied to.

  Matthew handed her a lifejacket. “Here, put this on.”

  She placed her head through the opening and tied the rest of the jacket around her waist. “I guess that’s a no then. Too bad, I was just starting to like your ship.”

  “We haven’t been sunk yet,” Matthew said.

  They stared at the glowing wave that approached on the computer screen.

  “Here it comes!”

  Ahead of the bridge, Matthew saw the towering wall of water approach. In an instant he knew with the same mathematical precision of Elise that they were doomed. There was no outcome in which the wall of water wouldn’t drown them entirely.

  A moment later the rogue wave split in two. To each side of the Maria Helena, a wall of water at least a hundred feet high loomed. And then it passed them by.

  Elise stared at him. For the first time, her face displayed fear. “What the hell was that?”

  Matthew embraced her as he watched the wave disappear. “I have no fucking idea!”

  Chapter Fifty Five

  Tom shined his flashlight into the room on the other side of the obliterated door. The room was small by comparison to the others within the trimaran, but it was large enough for Tom and Genevieve to turn around. Maybe ten feet by ten feet to form a perfectly square room – no more than four feet high.

  It was filled with gold and treasure.

  The most prominent of all of these was a golden eagle perched on its own golden frame staring up at them with its wings spread outwards. It was nearly a foot high and held its wings outwards slightly wider than a foot. As the light reached it, several small dots of golden light ricocheted off the wall behind – forming an unknown celestial constellation. There were three piles of Gold Sovereigns spread around the room. Tom picked up a few coins and ran his hands through them. Their faces were of the monarchs of Britain, Portugal, Spain, and France. The most recent dates he could find was 1772.

  Tom let the coins fall through his fingers. “I guess the stories were true. These guys really did hunt the western ships.”

  Genevieve pointed towards her dive computer. They were desperately short of Heliox and Tom was still sharing her gas. “Until the Antiqui Nautae got it wrong and died in their search for treasure. Let’s not make the same mistake. We’ll come back later for this.”

  “Okay, sounds good.” Tom grabbed the golden eagle from its perch. It was heavy in his hand and he secured it to his dive belt next to the rest of the heavy lead weights. Something told him that it was important and he wasn’t willing to leave it behind. He increased the gas in his BCD to compensate for the weight and bring him back to neutral buoyancy. “Wait here until I’m attached to my own dive gear and then follow. If you lose sight of my light, let me know immediately.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Tom disconnected Genevieve’s secondary gas tube from his own facemask. He then held his breath while he swam towards his dive tanks. He worked quickly and efficiently as he reattached his own tanks.

  And then took a deep breath of Heliox. “Okay, we can go.”

  Tom kicked his fins in a slow but continuous rate. He was torn between the balance of trying to reduce the time until he reached the spare tanks, and using an excessive amount of Heliox through exertion.

  He confidently swam through the disturbed silt. “Run your hand along the side of the tunnel and keep going. There isn’t enough room here for you to turn around even if you wanted to, much less by accident.”

  “Okay.”

  Tom swam vertically into the next level and out along the complex killing room. He swung his flashlight around it looking for the way they had come in originally. There were 53 exits by his recollection. And only one that took him to the surface. At first glance, they all appeared identical. Then his light caught the original green guideline he’d used when he entered the wreck.

  Tom pointed with his flashlight to where the guideline had been screwed to the wood. “There it is. Attach yourself to the guideline and let’s go.”

  She held up her dive computer so Tom could see it. There was less than twenty BAR remaining. Not enough to reach the open deck. “I think I’m out of time.”

  “No you’re not.” Tom held his breath as he disconnected his own tank and replaced the nearly empty tank Genevieve was using. Then, he took her almost empty tank and reconnected it to his own. He then smiled at her. “I’ll meet you at the safety point.”

  “Good luck.”

  Tom swam through the opening which led to the long tunnel. At the end of it, he reached the Viking room. He breathed long, slow and deep breaths. It was a discipline designed to utilize every bit of oxygen stored in the Heliox, while at the same time slowing his heart rate and metabolic need. He followed the next tunnel until it reached the end. He tried to breathe in – but there was no more gas to breathe.

  He blew out slowly as he ascended to the top level. Then he swam along the long tunnel until his lungs burned. He turned right and followed the short tunnel to the opening in the center cockpit and out into the open water.

  Tom could see the twin dive tanks approximately thirty feet away from him, but his vision began to go all dark. He knew exactly what was happening. His brain was starved for oxygen, and it could no longer make any sense out of what he was seeing.

  He continued to kick his fins, but it was no use – he could no longer see. Tom heard Genevieve’s voice, but couldn’t make any sense of it. He was on the verge of unconsciousness.

  And then he took a deep breath.

  The gas inside his dive mask flowed easily. It felt cold, and sweet. Am I dead this time? Tom had been close before when other dives had gone wrong, and he knew that when you approach death, there’s normally a period of warmth and euphoria.

  Then he opened his eyes. No, he hadn’t opened them – they were already open. Only now, he could make out something. Or someone? His vision was blurred and full of a green light.

  His green friend had returned. Tom couldn’t quite make out its body, but he could see the face. It smiled at him. The same face. It had the same distinctive cleft chin below its mysteriously kind smile. Now he knew he was hallucinating.

  Gradually the green turned to the warm light of Genevieve’s LED.

  She kneeled down next to him and tried to look at his face through his dive mask. Tom reassured her with a smile. “You reached the spare dive tanks for me.” It wasn’t a question. Simply a statement.

  “Yes. Well you told me you’d be all right. And I believed you – until you stopped moving. So I thought I’d better help you out a little.”

  Tom grimaced as full sensation returned. “Thanks.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve got one hell of a headache, but other than that I’ll live. Let’s commence our ascent.” Tom flashed his light towards where the Maria Helena’s anchor chain should have been – only it wasn’t there. “Oh crap!”

  Genevieve checked her dive computer. “What is it?”

  Tom pointed to where the anchor chain from the Maria Helena should have been. “It appears the Maria Helena’s abandoned us.”

  Chapter Fifty Six

  “Maria Helena, Maria Helena, come in!” Tom yelled into his dive radio.

  No response.

  Genevieve moved closer. “Why would they leave?”

  “I have no idea.” Tom tried to contact the ship again. “Maria Helena, are you receiving our transmissions?”

  Silence.

  “Matthew, answer me you bastard!”

  More silence.

  “All right Genevieve, let’s begin our ascent. We’re not going to get any answers down here.”

  “Agreed.”

  At the thirty feet mark Tom waited to decompress for ten minutes. Then, moving to the surface
he said, “Let’s see if we can find out why they left us.”

  Tom’s head barely cleared the surface and he saw it. A wave, at least a hundred feet into the air, if not more, and radiating bright green.

  He turned and ducked his head back under the water. Grabbing Genevieve’s buoyancy control device, Tom depressed the air release, sending her on her way back towards the bottom. “Quick, we have to dive again!”

  “What is it?”

  “Rogue wave!”

  Above them the green apparition followed.

  At fifty feet, the two stopped diving and looked back. The frothy water seemed to have disappeared.

  “I think it’s passed,” Genevieve said.

  “Yeah, but whether or not the Maria Helena survived it, I don’t know.”

  The two swam to the surface again.

  There was nothing around them. The only remaining light were the millions of stars visible above them and all the way to the horizon.

  “Well. This might be a long wait.”

  The sea appeared unusually calm. With his buoyancy control device inflated Tom relaxed, floating on his back and stared up at the stars above. They were as beautiful as they were plentiful.

  Tom removed the golden eagle from his dive belt and held it up against the night’s sky. “We might be here a while Genevieve. We may as well enjoy it.”

  She followed his suit and floated on her back in the almost perfectly still water, staring above. “I could think of worse places to have to wait.”

  “What are you doing with that?”

  “I’m trying to make sense of it.”

  She laughed. “By looking at the stars?”

  “Yes. I can only guess that it is some sort of celestial map. Hopefully it will lead us to where they once lived.” Tom watched her face. It was glowing with interest. “Who am I kidding? Hopefully it will lead us to their real treasure cache.”

  “What makes you so certain it’s a map?”

  Tom swam slightly closer to her so that that his face rested next to hers. Close enough that he could feel her warm breath on his cheek. He then held the golden eagle up into the air so that the tiny holes in the wings spread across the sky. “See these tiny dots?”

  She nodded her head.

  “I believe they represent a constellation of stars. Once you reach a point where the holes all line up to stars directly overhead, you will be above the desired location – whatever that might be.”

  “But none of those holes match up to any of the stars in our sky?”

  Tom lowered the eagle. “I noticed that too.” He held the eagle directly next to her and pointed directly at a series of holes. “See these. I believe they represent the Southern Cross.”

  “Which means the Antiqui Nautae lived in the southern hemisphere?”

  “Exactly.”

  Neither person spoke for some time after that. Tom noticed that Genevieve was still resting her head on his chest. She’d moved even closer, if that was possible. It surprised him. Genevieve had always been a sort of enigma aboard the Maria Helena. She was kind and nurturing to everyone, but there was also hardness there, too. Some sort of deep-rooted toughness that went further than her exterior.

  Tom wrapped his arms around her out of comfort. He waited for her to show her displeasure, and when she didn’t he cuddled her.

  She was quick to make new friends, but those friendships never surpassed the superficial stage. After two years on board she had refused to open up about her previous life. One thing was certain – she had gone to great lengths to remove any history of it, and had no intention of dating or getting close enough to anyone, of either sex, to relinquish her past.

  Sam knew it. Tom was certain of that. Sam carefully vetted everyone in his team aboard the Maria Helena. He only accepted the brightest and best in any field and was willing to pay big dollars to ensure that’s all he received. Elise was probably the world’s best data miner and Sam would have used her talents to discover the truth about Genevieve’s past. Whatever it was, Sam must have approved, because he’d kept her aboard. When Tom had asked if she was single, Sam had laughed and told him that of all the people aboard, she was the only one he was certain wasn’t interested in a relationship.

  Sam had brought her on board two years ago after she’d answered an advert for a quality chef, who was willing to live at sea and anywhere around the world, and would have an acceptance to participate in other duties whilst on board. Everyone quickly learned that not only was she a three hatted gourmet chef, she excelled at every new skill she learned. They also noticed she had a unique repertoire of skills not officially listed on her resume, such as martial arts, hand to hand combat and weapons training – suggesting a history in the military. But for which country, was anyone’s guess.

  Tom sighed. He shouldn’t push his luck. “What’s your story anyway, Genevieve? I know you weren’t always a brilliant chef.”

  “No, I’ve always been a brilliant chef. Cooking came naturally to me ever since I was a little girl.” She smiled at him – there was uncertainty in it, as though she was deciding if she was ready to tell her story.

  He should have left it alone. But they were adrift in the Atlantic in the dead of night. They had no way of knowing if the Maria Helena had survived, and if she hadn’t it would mean that no one would come for them in the morning. So Tom persisted. “What else came easy to you?”

  She looked at him. Tom wondered if he spotted the slightest of tears – it could have easily been seawater. “Killing people.”

  It was the sort of thing people said as a joke. Only she wasn’t kidding.

  “Who did you kill?”

  “There were a lot of people. But I remember every single one of them. I worked for a man who’d survived the Gulag in Russia. You know the death camps?”

  Tom nodded his head. He’d read a book about it years ago.

  Genevieve continued. “He adopted me when I was very young. Taught me things. Worked with my natural talent and I began killing people. I’m out now, but it’s a past that’s best hidden.”

  Genevieve then turned her head and kissed him. It was tentative at first. Then as his lips parted, it became more passionate. They were responding to each other’s desires hungrily, until she suddenly pulled away and stared at him. “You really do have nice hazel eyes.”

  “What was that for?” Tom asked. A large grin formed across his face like a teenager who just got to first base with his prom partner.

  “Because you saved my life earlier.” She smiled seductively. “And because I’ve always wanted to. Oh, and by the way. If you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you.”

  On the horizon a new light glowed.

  Tom moved back from Genevieve, and prepared to dive again. The light could have been another rogue wave. Then he heard the familiar sound of the Sea King’s rotor blades whirling. It hovered directly above them.

  Veyron opened the side door and leaned out. The noise was horrendous, but through it they could just make out Veyron’s words. “You kids want a lift somewhere?”

  Chapter Fifty Seven

  Sam looked to the left side of the helicopter where Tom climbed the steel ladder. He looked wet, tired, and relieved. There was something else he spotted about him, but couldn’t quite be certain – did he look embarrassed? Behind him, Genevieve slumped into the seat. Her short dark brown hair, normally tied back tidily, was tussled. Her large breasts, slim figure, and athletic frame, cut a striking image through her skin-tight neoprene diving suit.

  “Sam Reilly, what are you staring at all dumb? Haven’t you seen a beautiful woman before?” Genevieve said.

  Sam turned his head as he laughed. Then he waited for Veyron to close the door, before he gained some altitude. “I’m just glad you two are okay.”

  “We’re fine, but what about the Maria Helena and the rest of them?” Tom asked.

  “They’re okay. I’m not sure how they did it, but the rogue wave seems to have missed them completely.”
>
  Veyron noted the marker beacon of the Maria Helena on the GPS. Sam nodded his head and followed the directional marker. It took them due south.

  And then the radio began to make noise. The person’s voice at the other end was hidden by the strong static. Veyron adjusted the radio and then waited for whoever was on the other side to transmit again.

  “Mayday, Mayday. This is the Mississippi. We’re a super tanker carrying two million barrels of crude oil. We’ve been damaged by a rogue wave, and we’re sinking. Please, if anyone can hear us, we need immediate assistance.”

  “Mississippi. This is Sea King Mikey. Charlie. Charlie. One. Five. We’ll render every assistance possible. Please confirm your location.”

  “Twenty-five miles east of north Bimini Island.” He then read out their precise GPS coordinates.

  Sam didn’t have to look at a map. It was the exact same location of the other recent attacks. “Copy that Mississippi. How many lives are aboard?”

  “Five crew and two civilians.”

  “Mississippi we’re heading to your location to render assistance. What is the state of your oil compartments?”

  “One is compromised and a deck fire has started. The rest are currently secure.”

  Sam looked at Veyron who typed the coordinates into the GPS and then plotted their distance. “We can be there in twelve minutes.”

  “What about our fuel?” Sam asked.

  “We should be all right to pick up the passengers and then return to the Maria Helena. We’d better get the Maria Helena moving toward the stricken vessel, so that we can shorten our flight time on the return trip.”