Tomb of Atlantis

by Petersen, Christopher David

  Flying toward the sun on his south-easterly course, he watched the beams of light color the ocean below. Spectacular shades of yellow and orange bounced off the water and filled his tiny cab with brilliant light.

  "Beautiful," he said under his breath as he scanned the horizon for aircraft.

  He took out his binoculars and searched for the tiny buoy that marked his landing site. Flying for over forty minutes, he knew he was close. Dividing his attention between the horizon and the cockpit, he began his descent in anticipation of landing.

  Several minutes later, far off in the distance, Jack spotted something peculiar: white caps. He readjusted the focus of his binoculars and scanned a tiny area a few miles out in front of him.

  White caps were not unusual, but these were larger than the surrounding seas and held a substantial amount of spray associated with them. Jack watched intently, his focus glued to the strange anomaly that grew larger with each passing mile.

  Descending now through five hundred feet of altitude, he brought his attention back into the cockpit. Pulling back on the stick and adding power, he stabilized the flight at two hundred feet above the water.

  Looking back out over the nose of the plane, he continued his scan of the surface. The larger white caps had now turned into a continuous frothy area. Suddenly, Jack saw a great geyser of water spray into the air.

  “Holy Crap, those are whales!” he exclaimed loudly. “Cool.”

  He watched as the one whale turned into two and two into four until there were more than he could keep track of. One by one, they would roll through the surface, eject a fountain of water above them, then submerge below the water, only to have another repeat the process behind it.

  Fascinated, Jack brought the plane down to just above the ocean's surface. Flying along mere feet above the water, he moved his track so the whales would pass along his left wingtip, giving him a perfect vantage point.

  Moments later, he watched out his window as he flew past the endless caravan of behemoths, spewing geysers of water from their blowholes. Having never seen a whale before, much less a herd of whales, he marveled at their graceful swimming and speed, but mostly he watched in amazement at the sheer size of the magnificent creatures.

  “Oh, my God, they even have babies,” he remarked out loud, as he observed the mother whales swimming with their children.

  Almost as quickly as they appeared off his wingtip, they were gone. Jack raised the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the area in front of the plane looking for more whales. With no more to be found, he looked behind him and watched several whales shoot their water into the air one last time. Tempted to turn around and watch them again, he continued on course and concentrated his focus on finding the buoy out in front of him.

  “Man, that was so cool. Not something you see every day, that's for sure,” he said to himself, as he monitored the GPS's for his progress.

  Moments later, while looking through his binoculars, his heart started to race. There, less than a mile away, was the red and white buoy floating in the water, guiding him in for a pinpoint landing.

  With a safe and uneventful landing behind him, Jack stepped out of the plane and sat down on the edge of his float. Listening to the quiet of the early morning breezes, he stared down in the water and visualized the location of the golden pyramid.

  "By the numbers this time," he said to himself. "No nonsense. If you don't find it, come back tomorrow. Minimize the risks."

  Suddenly, he heard a loud sound behind him. Like a burst from a valve, the rush of escaping air grew in volume, then quickly dissipated. Snapping his head to his right, he caught the large vertical tail of a Humpback whale rolling through the surface, then descending.

  "Holy mackerel!" he exclaimed, his heart pounding from the sudden start.

  He brought his fins up out of the water and rested them on the float in front of him as he scanned the horizon. One by one, he began to see the presence of more whales off in the distance. He watched in quiet satisfaction as the colony of whales signaled their locations with a blast of water from their spouts.

  "Wow, this is amazing," he said quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself.

  As the whales drew nearer to the plane, Jack felt a slight uneasiness in the pit of his stomach as he considered the vulnerability of his situation. At first, he thought about taking off and avoiding any potential danger, but reconsidered, electing instead to sit perfectly still and try to avoid detection.

  Closer they came, the whales now changed direction and headed straight toward him. Tensing a bit, he watched in nervous fascination as the large behemoths gracefully danced along the ocean's surface. Ascending and submerging, spouting and playing, Jack began to feel at ease as they swam on by. Passing along on both sides of the plane, darting his head back and forth, he examined each whale just as they examined him.

  In curiosity, Jack watched a baby whale slow to stop. Lifting its head slightly out of the water, the two stared into each other’s eyes. He sensed an intelligence that frightened him a first, but quickly he realized that the little giant meant him no harm. In the seconds that they connected, he could see the same playful curiosity that he had seen so many times in small children.

  "Hey, little guy," he said to the floating child. "Where’re you headed?"

  Jack watched the baby whale's eye shift slightly and grow in size as it searched for the meaning of Jack's communication. Moments later, the proud mother pulled alongside and gave her baby a gentle nudge. Instinctively, the pair swam off together, joining the rest of the travelers.

  As the last of the whales pulled far beyond his plane, exhilaration turned to sadness as he realized his enchanting experience had now come to an end.

  "Man, no one's going to believe this," he said out loud, as he placed his feet back into the water.

  With a sense of euphoria, he leaped from the float and into the water. Exhilaration now raced through his body. Somewhere, one hundred feet below, lay the golden pyramid and he was determined to find it.

  Following the rope, hand over hand, he descended. Just as before, he passed the markers on the rope that visually signaled his progress downward. As he traveled into deeper water, more surface light began to filter out, creating a darker world with each foot he descended. Stopping for a moment, he checked his gauges for proper air pressure and depth. Satisfied with the reading, he looked around and continued his descent.

  Suddenly, Jack noticed something peculiar outside his peripheral vision—beams of light from the surface were pulsating, not unlike that of the flickering light of a campfire. Stopping immediately, he looked all around him, but saw nothing unusual. Looking straight up, his mouth nearly fell open.

  Close to the surface, looming high above, he watched enormous shadows cross the sun's path, blocking out the rays of light that pieced the water below. He held the anchor line and kept his position steady as he analyzed the strange anomaly that was occurring above him. As each shadow passed by, he speculated on the cause.

  Suddenly, his feeling of wellbeing was gone, now replaced by nervous reality. He knew what those shadows were. They were mammal. They were whales.

  Unsure about the habits of creatures that size, Jack's natural instincts of fear and survival dominated his forethoughts. His previous experience with the behemoths proved uneventful, but that was when he was safely out of the water. Now, forty feet below, he was completely unprotected and vulnerable. He was in their world now and had no idea how they would react if he were spotted.

  Playing it safe, he decided to descend quietly. Still looking up, he released the air from his lungs. Keeping perfectly still and without air, his own negative buoyancy caused him to sink. Slowly at first, then building momentum, Jack picked up speed as he descended.

  As he passed the fifty foot marker, he had trouble making out the fuzzy shadows that were so clear just ten feet above. Still looking up, he continued his descent. Now, approaching the twenty-five foot marker, the top surface was comp
letely indistinguishable.

  Jack began to breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure of whale's eyesight or hearing, but felt certain that if they hadn't bothered him now, he was probably safe. Spinning around, he swam down the rope. Kicking hard, he did his best to put as much distance between them and him as quickly as he could.

  Just as before, the ocean's floor popped into view as he reached the twenty-five foot marker. Pulling on the rope and kicking his fins harder, he raced toward the bottom, equalizing the pressure in his ears almost continually as he descended. Minutes later, he touched the bottom, spun around, and looked straight up. He saw nothing. Turning off his flashlight, he sat in dim light until his eyes adjusted. In less than a minute, he began to see streams of light penetrating his depth. After a couple of minutes had passed, the area around him seemed dark, but light enough to just make out the edge of larger outcroppings.

  With his visibility improving, he focused on the surface, insuring he hadn't been followed by any of the whales.

  "Phew... Man, that was kind of scary," he admitted to himself. "What's next, sharks?"

  He switched on his flashlight, illuminating the whole area around him. Taking a bearing from his compass, he headed toward the area of the last two artifacts. With his diver’s knife in one hand and the flashlight in the other, he poked and prodded at anything that raised his suspicions.

  Atlantis - Chapter 10

  On a normal day, Jack's Zenair 701 floatplane would float effortlessly, quietly taking in the morning’s sunlight. On a normal day, the only noise that could be heard would be the quiet lapping of the waves against the half-submerged floats. This was not a normal day...

  Like fast moving buses, the large whales rushed past both sides of Jack's plane, creating large waves and frothy whitecaps as they chased after large schools of plankton and krill. With higher ocean temperatures caused by recent atmospheric anomalies, the krill and plankton population had been on the rise for quite some time. Taking advantage of the overabundance, large colonies of whales chased the fleeing marine life, creating feeding frenzies that turned calm seas into roiling cauldrons of violent water.

  Carelessly and callously, the whales bumped and collided with Jack's plane as it floated between them and their food. In their frustration, some deliberately rammed the floats, pushing the plane out of their path instead of redirecting their own. Designed to withstand the loads encountered during landings, Jack's plane was not designed to take the loads encountered during feeding frenzies. With each hard blow, structures began to weaken.

  Nearby, one hundred feet away, a baby and her mother swam together. Playfully, the baby whale demanded her mother’s attention as she porpoised through the water. Happily, the mother nudged her daughter in approval as she dined on large quantities of plankton. Nudging and playing, foraging and dining, the pair carried on oblivious to any obstructions in their path.

  As the two raced through the water, they quickly closed the distance on Jack's plane. Less than forty feet away, the baby whale darted in front of her mom. In playful response, the mom darted far ahead of her daughter, cutting off her path and forcing her to change direction. Changing her direction once more, the baby whale headed for the plane. The mother's keen sense of hearing picked up the obstruction in the water, raising her maternal instincts. With fear of the unknown growing inside, she quickly darted ahead of her daughter, attempting to deflect her path away for the mysterious floating object.

  As the mother whale hurried her pace, she instinctively feared for her baby’s life. Sensing her mother's speed, the baby whale sped up to prolong the playful act. Pulling ahead of her baby, the mother abruptly changed direction and slammed into her daughter. Mere feet away from Jack's plane, the mother's attempt to deflect her babies path, came too late. Instead of sending her baby around the floats, her bump sent the baby whale between the floats.

  For the mother whale, all time stood still. Caught in Jacks netting, the baby whale was now stuck. Stunned and unable to move, the baby whale called to her mother in fear. Panic spread through the mother. Instinctively she attacked Jack's plane. With a running start, she built up tremendous speed and rammed the side of the float, nearly collapsing it, rocking the entire plane until the wingtips splashed in and out of the water.

  With her baby still held in the clutches of the planes netting, the mother frantically came around for another blow. Hysterical and raving, the mother acted in single minded purpose. Nothing else mattered. With intense focus, she built up tremendous momentum and slammed into the menacing float once more, forcing the plane to give up its grasp on her baby.

  The two blows delivered by the mother were catastrophic. The first blow broke off a wing strut and rupturing a seam in the base of the float. With the float taking on water, the plane listed to the damaged side. Moments later, the second impact ripped the float from the wing strut, releasing the baby whale. Instantly, without the support of the float, the listing wing splashed into the water and immediately sank below the surface. With the wing under the water, its heavy weight rolled the plane over on its side.

  Although the doors were closed and sealed, they were not air tight. Slowly, the cabin took on water. Little by little, as the water rushed in, the plane began to sink.

  Off in the distance, the mother whale and her baby communicated the lesson of the day. As they hurried to catch up to the rest of the colony, she eyed with contempt, the evil predator that almost claimed her baby’s life.

  Atlantis - Chapter 11

  Swimming along, slowly and methodically, Jack worked his way across the ocean floor. With the edge of his knife, he scraped any surface that took on a uniform shape, a shape he thought could possibly be man-made. When he saw circular looking holes, he poked and levered off bits and pieces of crustaceans, hoping to reveal an urn or pot. Even simple areas of sand and seaweed were searched in the hopes of uncovering buried treasure.

  As he searched the rocks, boulders and sand, he was not alone. Swimming nearby, attracted by the light, were tiny tropical fish investigating the stranger invading their privacy. He marveled at their brilliant colors of reds, yellows, greens and blues.

  In short time, Jack found the original spot of the last two artifacts and began a more intensive search. All surfaces were touched or scraped. Nothing was left to chance. Starting at the origin point, he worked his way out in circles. Each time he completed the circle around the origin, he moved out a couple more feet and searched the larger circle around the point. He started with a four foot circle, then an eight foot circle, then a twelve foot circle, continuing his search by adding two feet to each side of the previous circle.

  After nearly twenty minutes, Jack had completed many rings around the original find. His search had turned up nothing and now he began to feel the disappointment of defeat. Checking his gauges once more, he realized he had run out of time and would need to return. He thought about staying longer, but remembered Moses' words: "reduce risk."

  Jack turned and followed the towline back. Unwrapping and detangling the small cord as he went, he then coiled it back onto the spool attached to his side. Moving fast, he noticed a higher degree of particles in the water, reducing his visibility and slowing his speed a bit. Every few feet, he looked up to keep track of his return path.

  Slowly, strangely, he began to notice something peculiar. The water had become cloudy. The visibility went from forty feet down to less than ten. He could not see the end of his towline, nor could he see the anchor line rising to the surface.

  "What the hell?" he called out in confusion.

  Jack started to feel uneasy. He could now see both tow and anchor lines, but only about ten feet of them as it disappeared into blackness. The low visibility sent a chill through his body as he now began to feel the isolation of confinement. With forty feet of visibility, he felt secure, like he was in a very large room and could see any danger that approached him. Now, with only ten feet of visibility, he felt like he was in a closet—dangers could spring on hi
m and he'd be powerless to react.

  Swimming and coiling, he kept an eye on his surroundings. Just ahead of him, the visibility seemed to reduce even further. As the particulate in the water floated by, it were now larger in size and heavier in concentration. He passed his hand out in front and watched the particles swirl around his fingers in tiny vortices, like miniature whirlpools under the water.

  Moving forward, he noticed a large fuzzy rock far out at the edges of his visibility. Strangely, he hadn't noticed it before. He stopped for a moment, looked around, and took note of his position.

  "I think I'm in the right location," he thought.

  Looking down at the towline still traveling across the seabed, he felt a bit confused.

  "Yup, this is right. There's the towrope."

  He kicked his fins and swam a few more feet, collecting more of the rope, and keeping an eye on the ever-growing rock far up ahead. He stopped again and examined the rock. It had now grown large. Still fuzzy and indeterminable, he felt confused once more.

  "Maybe I'm off course," he speculated. "Maybe the currents carried the rope here. I'm definitely off course. That rock shouldn't be there or... I shouldn’t be here."

  Jack looked around again. He was running out of time and now became frustrated by his disoriented state.

  ‘Dammit, what is going on here? This all looks so different,’ he thought.

  Slowly, he continued to coil the rope knowing it would eventually take him back to the anchor. As he moved a few feet forward, the large fuzzy, nondescript rock starting to take on shape. Little by little, the fuzzy edges became sharper and more detailed.

  Something wasn't right. Jack could now see color. The dark nondescript rock had a white tone about it. Suddenly, reality hit him. This was not a rock. This was a small boat.

  "Wow, I must be way off course," he guessed. "Strange, I don't remember seeing this before."