Firestorm

by David Klass

  Made it. Whew. Rest time.

  But of course Eko wants to keep going. Announces that the next task will be a long-distance swim.

  Fine. Bring it on.

  In the nude.

  “No offense, Eko. I don’t go around skinny-dipping with people I barely know.”

  “You’re ashamed of your body?”

  “Not at all. It’s not about me.”

  “I’ve seen lots of naked men before,” she says matter-of-factly. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Then why bring it up?” I ask. “Why do you want me to shed my shorts?”

  “Because I need to teach you how to swim.”

  “I already know how,” I tell her. Pretty well, I almost add. Two gold medals at our town pool’s summer Olympics. Could have won more, but Dad was watching. “Why don’t you let Tom Jennings win the backstroke? Make his dad proud.”

  But I don’t brag about my swimming to Eko. I’ve seen her run and I’ve seen her fight, and something tells me she’s also good in the water. “I’ll be fine in shorts.”

  “Your choice,” Eko says. “But it’s easier when nothing is getting waterlogged. Especially where we’re going.”

  She raises her T-shirt over her head. Unclasps her sports bra. Slides her shorts off. Then her underwear. Stands there naked, except for red bead necklace with jewel pendant hanging between her breasts.

  I look away. Slowly look back. Can’t stop my gaze from flicking down her body. Never saw a naked member of the female gender before. During our petting sessions, P.J. was always rather modest. Kept some articles of clothing on, as if she needed a bra and panties for security and protection.

  Not Eko. Secure in her own skin. Short, muscular body. Athletic arms and shoulders. Small but firm breasts. Wide hips. Triangle of dark hair between powerful thighs.

  I catch my breath. Look back up and our eyes meet. Son of a bitch, Eko’s smiling.

  Second smile ever from her. “Let’s go swimming,” she says. “You look like you need to dive into cold water.”

  She runs into surf and dives into wave. I follow. Water unexpectedly cool.

  Soon we are half a mile out. She turns and sets course parallel to shore. Swims the way she runs. Graceful. Rhythmic. All parts working in concert.

  I can barely keep up with her.

  She stops. “Ready to go down? It’s about a hundred feet deep here.”

  “Eko, I always wanted to learn scuba, but they didn’t have lessons in my town. And aren’t you forgetting breathing masks and oxygen tanks?”

  She takes off necklace. Carefully unthreads two red beads. Swallows one. Passes me the other.

  I roll it around in my hand. “What’s this? A vitamin?”

  “Two hours of oxygen,” she says.

  “Oxygen is a gas. Doesn’t come in pills.”

  “Stay close and try not to get into too much trouble,” she advises. She does a little pitch forward, and dives straight down like a mermaid returning to her secret world.

  I swallow red bead. Feel it breaking apart inside me. Like antacid tablet. Can this work? I’m not a fish. No gills. I can’t go down a hundred feet without an oxygen tank.

  Come on, Eko summons me telepathically.

  I can’t do this. It’s crazy. You’re nuts. I’ll drown.

  I never thought you were a coward.

  No girl has ever called me that before. It stings. Meanwhile, the red bead is doing hopscotches in my stomach. Not just in my stomach. My throat. My lungs.

  I lower my head beneath the surface. Keep my mouth closed. Wait for that warning light to start flashing. OXYGEN DEPLETION. And the siren: HEAD FOR THE SURFACE NOW.

  No warning light. No siren. I’m fine.

  Come on.

  Eko swimming circles beneath me. I join her. Pressure builds in my ears. It gets dark fast. Water temperature must be sixty degrees at surface. Drops ten degrees real quick.

  I stop descending. It’s getting inky and I feel drunk. Eko, it’s too dark. Too cold. I can’t handle the pressure.

  She swims back up to me. I see that her jeweled pendant is glowing. The glow lights the way in front of her and also flickers over her whole body, so that she seems encased in a moving jacket of warm light.

  Use your watch, Jack.

  How?

  Find the way.

  I look at the watch on my left wrist. Dad’s gift. Old-fashioned watch face on a dark metal band. Didn’t know she’d even noticed it. Hope it’s waterproof. I remember the way it saved Gisco and me in Manhattan by deflecting two search beams from a Dark Army van. Okay, turn on. Switch on. Abracadabra. Hocus pocus. Eko, I don’t know how to do this.

  Stop thinking of it as separate from yourself. Control it as part of yourself.

  Okay, let’s see. Feel my arm. Upward to my wrist. Around my wrist, the dark metal band. Feel the extra weight of the watch. The constriction of the band. The band that’s now starting to grow warmer. As the watch starts to glow …

  A million points of light suddenly surround me. Dance around me. Embrace me. Warming me. Cold vanishes. Pressure goes kaput. I can see clear as day.

  Down and down we go. Entering magical realm. I’ve never done anything like this before. Why does it feel so normal, so much like coming home?

  Because it was home. We all come from the ocean, Jack.

  Yeah, but a real long time ago. How deep are we?

  Fifty feet. You couldn’t see here without the watch.

  Suddenly I am caught up in a pinwheel of color and movement. Three, four, five hundred of them. They’ve got a single yellow stripe across their faces. Each of them must weigh fifty pounds. A vast school of them, and they’ve decided I’m the field trip. They’re swimming circles around me. Eko? What are they?

  Large amberjacks.

  They don’t eat humans?

  No. They’re just curious.

  As quickly as they came, they dart away. Large, saucer shape getting closer. Almost five feet long. Reddish-brown-colored shell. Paddle-shaped limbs with two claws. Looks like it would be ungainly on land. Graceful in the water.

  Loggerhead turtle, Eko informs me. She swims to it, and it nuzzles her with its massive block-like head. She puts her hands on its shell and hitches a downward sloping ride.

  Threatened species. Their nesting sites are vanishing. This one’s more than two hundred years old. It’s circled the world a dozen times. Say hello.

  I try. No dice. Dr. Dolittle I’m not. Sorry, Eko, I don’t speak turtle. Can’t communicate with wild creatures. Don’t seem to have that connection.

  It’s the purest connection there is.

  My dial doesn’t have that frequency. What’s your turtle pal saying?

  He’s not saying anything. He’s just being a sea turtle.

  Then I guess I’m not missing much.

  You’ve got to get over your sense of superiority. Humans are really in many ways an appalling race. We were given great power, and we did the stupidest thing imaginable with it.

  What was that?

  Seventy feet under the Atlantic, I can feel the sadness and anger as Eko hesitates and then answers. Ruined everything. Sea turtles would have done better.

  Ruined everything how? What did we do, and who was responsible?

  But she’s not answering. Just as she hasn’t answered so many of my questions about myself and my parents during the past few days of basic training.

  She dives deeper. Loggerhead turtle swims away, long tail trailing behind.

  Sorry to see it go. Something comforting about such a gentle giant.

  Speaking of giants. Enormous shadow poking up at us from the black depths! Looks like a submerged redwood. Doesn’t fit into this soft underwater playground. Too straight. Too hard. Made of dark iron. What is it, Eko?

  Anti-aircraft gun. Welcome to the Graveyard of the Atlantic.

  26

  Enormous old tanker, lying upside down on sandy bottom. Bow looks intact, but stern is like Swiss cheese. What could punch hole
s like that in a thick iron hull?

  Torpedoes. German U-boats hunted in these waters.

  We swim closer. Fascinating mix of death and rebirth. The ocean has repopulated this ghost ship. Cold skeleton of iron wreck flames with white, orange, and purple-tipped anemones. Fish teem around it, swimming through gaps in the hull that serve as entrances to vast, hidden chambers.

  Wreck of tanker feels oddly spiritual. Who knows the pain and final struggles of the men who sank with it? Now all resting in peace. Silence of a hundred-foot-deep mass grave. Rusted tanks are now high-ceilinged cathedrals for congregations of dark-robed mollusks. Gutted machine rooms the shadowy hermitages of crustaceans in seclusion. As we swim past, an enormous Maine lobster bows its antennaed head, as if in obeisance.

  Look that one up, my friend, but not right now. Now I’ve glimpsed something. In a dark hole. Silver flashing brightly. A lost fortune! A sunken bit of treasure! I begin to stick my arm far down to retrieve it.

  Don’t do that, Eko warns. You’ll lose fingers.

  I rip arm away. Just in time. Large water snake emerges from hole. Not pleased at being disturbed. Four-foot monster. Not scaly. Charcoal skin. Upper jaw protruding over lower. Opens its mouth and shows me razor-sharp teeth.

  Conger eel, Eko tells me. Bottom feeder.

  Looks like it would have enjoyed snacking on my arm. How did you know it was there?

  How did you not know?

  We swim together in silence. Explore wreck. Eyeball an octopus. I lose track of time. Never been so fascinated.

  We have to go soon. Do you like it down here?

  One of the best things I’ve ever done in my life.

  Me too.

  Something about her answer. Do you do this a lot where you come from, Eko?

  No opportunity.

  Why not?

  We ruined it.

  How?

  Nothing left like this. The beauty. The diversity. All gone. Nothing wild. Nothing free. Everything farmed.

  I’m not talking about on land. I’m talking about deep beneath the oceans.

  So am I. Most of them empty. Toxic. Sea lice and jellyfish. The rest farmed and guarded.

  Even the deepest oceans?

  Eko’s looking around at the panorama of ocean life on display. Sadness on her face for just a minute. More than sadness. Resignation? Even a kind of guilt?

  We better go back up, Jack. We’ll run out of oxygen soon. Go slow.

  We start up. Whoa, what’s that? I feel a sinister vibe. Like an electric current. Pure hate in thought form. Then I see it. Seven-foot-long shadow. Circling. Eko!

  Sand tiger shark. Don’t worry.

  Don’t worry about a shark?

  They don’t usually eat humans.

  “Usually” is not the most comforting word you could have used. How rarely are we talking about?

  That’s a small one. You’re almost as big as he is. See, he’s decided to look for something smaller to eat.

  Sure enough, sand tiger shark swims away.

  I wasn’t really scared, Eko. Just being cautious—

  Stop.

  Stop what?

  Stop everything. Stop swimming. Stop moving.

  27

  The evil vibe again. More directed. Far more intense.

  I glimpse another shadow. Not seven feet long. Twice that! Stout body. Big front dorsal fin. Another smaller one near tail. Tiny eyes. Short snout.

  Bull shark.

  Are they dangerous?

  Most dangerous sharks in the world.

  Any more bad news?

  It’s hungry.

  Can we fight it?

  It’s hard to fight a shark underwater.

  I’ll take your word for it. Should we flee?

  Worst thing we could do.

  What does that leave?

  Summon help.

  Good idea. You got any friends around? How about Aquaman? I’m getting the hell out of here—

  Don’t move! They’re coming.

  Who’s coming? Watch out! It’s circling closer.

  Eko swims between me and shark.

  What the hell are you doing?

  Protecting you.

  I swim next to her. We’re scarier together.

  No, stay behind me.

  Not a chance.

  You are our beacon of hope.

  I just hope we’re not lunch.

  Bull shark shows us its teeth. I don’t want to look. I do anyway. Wish I hadn’t.

  Teeth are triangular and serrated, like pyramids of saw blades.

  Stay behind me. It’s going to attack!

  How do you know?

  Bull shark darts in and Eko swims to meet it. Jeweled pendant on Eko’s necklace flashes. Disco ball. Blindingly bright.

  Shark blinded for half second by explosion of colors. Ever see a shark confused? This one stops coming forward and shakes its ugly head, as if trying to clear cobwebs.

  Eko attacks! Tries to gouge out bull shark’s tiny right eye with three-finger claw strike. She doesn’t get eye, but shark backs off. Swims away thirty feet to regroup.

  I rejoin Eko. I think you really pissed it off.

  That won’t work again. Next time it’ll get one of us.

  What should we do?

  While it’s eating me, swim away as fast as you can.

  You’re kidding, right?

  Eko looks at me. Goodbye. Never forget that you have the weight of a world on your shoulders. When your moment comes, remember me and be brave!

  Enough with the heroic speeches, Eko. Let’s get the hell out of here.

  Too late. Shark swims right at us.

  Eko swims to meet it. Offering herself as the main dish. Should I try to help her? Should I flee? I flash to my dad, ordering me to run away, shooting his own foot off to convince me to go. He sacrificed his life to save me. To keep me alive. For some higher purpose. If I die here, I negate it all.

  So I head toward surface. Then I stop.

  Can’t leave her like this. I swim back.

  Shark strikes and Eko barely dodges it. She’s fast.

  Shark is faster. She’s evaded it once, but it’s gotten behind her.

  Great ugly mouth opens wide. Ready for lunch.

  I grab rear dorsal fin. Feels like bony sandpaper. Put shark in a cross-face wrestling hold. Increase pressure and try to rip the fin off its back.

  Shark forgets about Eko. Tries to fold itself in half and bite me. Can’t bite its own back. Decides to shake me off. Launches into dizzying twirl at rapid speed.

  I rip loose and somersault away, head over heels. Stunned. Recover. Turn.

  Shark giving me a look: I am an eating machine at the top of the food chain, and you have really pissed me off.

  Eko swims up to join me. Now you can’t get away. It wants you. We have to stand and fight.

  I thought we couldn’t fight a shark underwater.

  We can’t.

  Not much choice. Here comes Jaws.

  Twenty feet away. Fifteen. Great jaws open. Ten feet away. I see my fate in those rows of saw blades. Mouth a prayer. Let it end quickly. Five feet away …

  POW. Underwater impact. Shark knocked to one side. Before it can recover, POW. A dolphin! A gang of them. A pack! Swimming at shark and ramming its underbelly with their beaks. Shark is more than a match for any one of them. But every time it wheels to face one, another dolphin rams it from underneath. POW. POW. POW!

  Bull shark has had enough. Swims off angrily.

  Eko, it’s gone! We did it!

  It’ll be back. Sharks never give up a fight. We’ve got to take the express train out of here.

  What are you talking about?

  Grab on.

  Dolphin swims up to her. Another stops in front of me. Lovely animal. Sleek yet robust body. Gray with light spots. Friendly face with white lips. I watch Eko find a secure hold on her dolphin’s back. I latch hold of my own. A lot more comfortable than wrestling a shark. Skin is smooth. Like plush Italian leather.
Okay, Flipper, let’s roll.

  Dolphin doesn’t move. I don’t speak turtle. Apparently I also don’t speak dolphin.

  Ready? Eko asks me. She informs dolphins. And we’re off.

  Smooth ride, powerful engine. Twenty, thirty, forty miles per hour. Other dolphins race around us. Feels like I’m swimming with them. Cavorting.

  Water getting warmer. Sunlight. Orb of orange visible through blue-green curtain. We break surface.

  Skim along on living Jet Skis. Indescribable joy. To be alive! To be in sunlight! On the back of a friendly dolphin. Who jumps five feet in the air and playfully executes one-and-a-half turn before perfect reentry.

  Hey, Flipper, what the hell was that?

  But I’m loving it and they’re loving it, too, and we skim and jump and dive all the way to shore. They bring us in to shallows. Frolic around us as we walk through breakers. Rub up against our knees. Swim between our legs.

  “Thank them for me, Eko. They saved our lives.”

  “Thank them yourself.”

  “I can’t.”

  “If you try, you can talk to them. They’re as smart as you are, just different. Try.”

  “I’m trying. I can’t.” Wish I could.

  Then we’re onshore, watching their gray dorsal fins as they put on a farewell show for us, leaping and darting. And then they’re gone.

  Eko gets dressed. I watch the waves.

  “Thanks,” I say to her when she’s got her clothes on. “I’ll never forget that. It was all new to me. And magnificent.”

  She nods. Walks up next to me. Also watching the waves.

  Strange bond between us. Part shared adventure. Part common sensibility. Any way you slice it, Ninja Girl and I are having a moment.

  She almost never calls me by my name, but now she surprises me by whispering, “Jack.”

  “Yes?”

  Not looking at me. She’s looking out at the Atlantic. A highly unusual emotion in her voice. Vulnerability. “When the shark attacked me, why did you come back?”

  “It didn’t feel right to just leave you there.”

  “I see. Because we’re not friends, are we?”

  “Not really,” I admit.

  “You can tell the truth. You don’t even like me. Why should you? From the day I attacked you in the barn, all I’ve done is order you around and cause you pain. So why did you come back and risk your life for me?”