Sea of Tranquility

by Lesley Choyce

  Gulp of air, enough to get him through to wherever the hell he was going. Dive down and wham. The wave arrived, having gathered tremendous momentum as it squeezed itself into the narrow tunnel. There were too many bubbles to see much of anything clearly. He closed his eyes, waited for Sylvie’s voice inside his head. Heard nothing. Fortunately, he had his arms stretched out in front of him and jammed his fingers hard as the turn in the tunnel found him before he found it.

  But he quickly turned his body and kicked his feet with all his might so he would not lose the momentum of the wave. Then he felt something slide past him and he nearly burst the air from his lungs. It was smooth and dense and, whatever the hell it was, very much alive. He felt wet fur against his side and dared not think much of anything at all. He kicked his feet harder, took a couple of breast strokes and felt the wave give out a little. He reached up but there was still solid rock above him. He kicked again, sensed the burn begin in his lungs. One thousand and how many? No, it was different here. He couldn’t hold his breath very long doing this. Different altogether. He took two more big strokes, kicked harder with his feet, reached up again. Rock. A third time, rock.

  Swim, Greg. Can’t go back now, he drilled himself. I’m doing the best I can, Coach. What if I can’t make it? You can. What if? He had all the doubts in the world now. This was a very stupid thing to attempt. Then he jabbed his fingers upward for a fourth time.

  And then sliced up out of the water into air. He rose up out of the deluge with his mouth wide open. It was dark, he could-n’t see a thing. He got half a gulp of air, then the wave that had carried him slammed against the rear of the cavern with a roar and the backwash drove back at him like a sledge hammer, pushing him against the front wall while trying to suck him down and under, back into the tunnel. His fingernails clawed at the bare rock face, and he screamed.

  He was still clinging to it and feeling the wave relent when he realized someone else was screaming. The voice of a child. He continued to gulp air.

  “What are you?” she screamed, crying at the same time.

  “Greg,” he said, barely able to speak at all.“I’m Greg. Where are you?

  “Here. Please help me.”

  Greg cautiously clawed his way along the wall until he found her. He reached out in the darkness, touched her, and Angeline grabbed onto his two outstretched fingers like a vice grip. He found the ledge, but it was awash in seawater. Another wave came through just then and both were nearly swept off. He was holding onto her wrist at that point and having a desperate time keeping his footing. But when that wave had passed, he put an arm around this little kid and said nothing until he could get his lungs to work right again.

  “Where’s Todd?”

  “Who?”

  “My brother.”

  “Oh, right. Todd and Sylvie sent me. I’m here now.”

  “I’m scared.”

  Greg did not say that he was too. He knew you could fake some stuff with little kids, although he knew next to nothing about child psychology. His ruse would be to present a clear game plan. And only eleven hours and twenty minutes to go.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sylvie knew that Greg had made it through into the cavern. She saw the seal pop up outside of the cave and understood that his presence inside had been a good thing, a purposeful thing. Now Angeline had Greg. There were ledges inside high enough to keep them out of the water. Low tide was ten o’clock tonight. Everyone from the island would be out here. There would be help aplenty. Just a matter of time now. Suddenly the negative events of recent days — politicians, ferry closures, newspaper reports — all seemed insignificant. This was what mattered.

  Todd and his mother came running down the shoreline. Todd pointed, and Elise began to shake her head and lose control.“Easy, girl,” Sylvie said.“Your daughter is not alone. I had a champion swimmer handy. You remember Greg, the college kid? That’s why he stayed. He didn’t know why. I didn’t know why. But this was it.”

  “She’s okay in there?”

  “Yes. It’ll just take time.”

  The size and power of the waves was definitely on the increase, but the weather itself was even-tempered. It was a warm, sunny day. Light onshore breeze with a scent of the tropics in it. Freda, off Sable Island. Sinking ships, as it turned out.

  Elise wrung her hands and held tightly onto Todd. “It’s my fault,” he said.

  “Doesn’t matter now.”

  They walked closer to the shore and stared at the cliff with the underwater cave. And waited.

  A half-hour later, Moses’ boat rounded the front of the island but stayed offshore. Sylvie saw him wave, pointed to the RCMP Zodiac ready to beach itself on the pebbled shores. A four-wheel-drive truck could be heard as well, grinding its way over the rubble towards them.

  The battery on Todd’s little penlight had gone dead as Greg helped Angie climb further up the rock face, seeking the ledge that Sylvie had promised was higher up. Greg felt overwhelmed by responsibility now and worried again that he was not going to be able to cope with this. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this immense responsibility.

  And then they found the ledge. Waves still splashed them but they were way up there near the roof. Unless a really monster swell slammed its way through, they’d be okay.

  They sat and Angie snuggled close to him, making him feel uncomfortable. He didn’t have a sense about kids. He was just never around them much. She shivered, and he wished he had something warm for her, but he didn’t. He remembered the cookies and pulled the soggy bag out of his pocket.

  “You brought cookies?” She started to giggle.

  “Here.”

  “Sylvie made these.”

  “Yup. She sent me in here. I didn’t think I was going to make it.” He shouldn’t have said that, but she giggled some more.

  “Then why did you do it?”

  “I don’t know. She asked me. I’m not good at saying no.” Then he started to laugh. He liked the sound of his laughter inside the sea cave. Wow. It sounded cool. He laughed again out loud because he suddenly realized he was so fully alive. About ten minutes ago, he figured he was about to die. Now this. Unbelievable. The soggy cookies tasted like nothing he had ever known. He gave Angie most of what was there and then he tried to explain about the tidal problem.

  “It will be night. Might be a little light left.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this,” Angie said.

  “Me neither, so we have to figure it out as we go along.”

  “Most adults wouldn’t say that.”

  “I’m not most adults. Besides, I’m only twenty.”

  “But you’re old.”

  “Yes. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

  “Liar.”

  “Well, okay, whatever.”

  “Did you see the seal?” she asked.

  “I think he nearly smashed into me on my way in.”

  “He kept me company until you arrived.”

  “No kidding?” Greg didn’t believe it. He figured she made that part up.

  “He had beautiful eyes and a mustache.”

  “Seals are like that.”

  “When you came through, I didn’t know what you were.”

  “That’s what a summer job dropout looks like when he comes up for air.”

  “I’m glad you came.”

  “Me too. You still scared?”

  “Yup. And cold too. But it’s the dark that bothers me most. It’s really spooky. What happened to the sun?”

  “Still out there. We’ll see it again.” And then he told her about the glow stick, which was still in his pocket. Said he didn’t want to use it unless he really had to. It was going to be a long day without light.

  Just then a thunderous sound made them both flinch. Angie held onto Greg and Greg braced his feet between two rocks. A wave compressed and surged through the tunnel into the wider opening and then slammed the back wall where they sat. It sounded horrific, but all they got was a b
last of spray in the face and the tug of both air and water as the backwash headed back to sea.

  The RCMP divers stood on the rocks, talking to Sylvie and Elise. Sylvie explained about the tunnel and the cavern and they talked about the tide. The diver seemed worried most about Freda and the storm surge. Could the girl be taken out underwater somehow? Could she swim and share an oxygen mask? Definitely not, her mother said. She now had her husband on the cellular phone she carried everywhere. Bruce was in his office in New York and insisted he speak to the divers.

  It was an intolerable situation for a husband far off at work in another world. He shouted at them, insisted they go in and save his daughter.

  “We’re going in, sir, but we’re not bringing her out until it’s safe,” Corporal Dan McGuire insisted.

  But they’d never ever done anything quite like this before. And of the five emergency dives McGuire had undertaken with his men, the best they could ever do was pull up dead bodies from lake bottoms and rivers.

  Island people began to arrive. Kit, Phonse, the Slaunwhites. Everybody offered to help but nobody knew what to do. There was no bickering today.

  “We’re going in,” the corporal said.“Two only. We’ve got an underwater light. I don’t like the way those waves are rolling into there but we should be okay. We’ll take an emergency pack with a space blanket, some dry food, and water. One of us will be back to report.”

  Two men with black neoprene suits, face masks, air tanks, and goggles walked backwards into the sea, turned on their bellies, and began to feel their way along the rock cliff. In unison, they dove deep and found what they were looking for.

  Angeline saw the light before Greg did. Only one diver, Corporal McGuire, made it through. His backup man had been hammered by a wave into the turn in the tunnel and it knocked loose his air valve. He’d turned and wrestled the sea back to sun and safety, but McGuire was luckier.

  “Look, it’s a sea monster,” Angeline shouted.

  “Hang on,” Greg told her.

  Another wave slammed up against their ridge. The sea monster came into view, the light shining straight at them. He held out an arm and bounced off the rear wall and then was spun around in a furious whirlpool. Greg didn’t reach for him but held onto Angie and kept his feet braced securely.

  McGuire was finally released by the whirlpool and shone the light around until he saw them up on the ridge. Before the next swell arrived, he swam towards them and hoisted himself up out of the maelstrom, popped off his mask, and then shone the light straight up on the ceiling, where it lit up the place with an eerie but welcome glow.“Everybody all right?”

  “So far, so good,” Greg said.

  “This is quite a hideout.”

  “Can I go home now?” Angie asked.

  “No. But I have a blanket for you. And this inflatable life thing. You have to put it on. I gotta tell them you’re okay.”

  McGuire tried to get his waterproof radio to work but it was pretty fuzzy. He got the point across that he was inside and everyone was okay. Did his buddy get back outside? Yes. What next? Sit tight and wait for Mother Nature to drop the tide. A long way off. Given the sea state, they’d have a very narrow window. Marine weather and the RCMP were working on a precise time frame. Sit tight.

  Angie was warmer with the life jacket and the blanket. Greg was shivering like crazy but insisted he was okay. It would be a long, weird day. If they were lucky, they’d have headroom above the water in the tunnel, but they’d still have to fight the waves the whole way out. McGuire insisted another diver round up a survival suit for Greg and a hastily adapted kids’ version for Angie. When his man brought the gear through he dropped it off, along with a new light with fresh batteries, and then McGuire insisted he get the hell out of there. The corporal told Greg he could ask another one of his men to bring him in fresh tanks and a wet-suit. A quick scuba lesson and his man could probably lead him out, but Angie asked him to stay. Greg said he’d hang tough for the whole show. He was in it for the long haul, and besides, he didn’t like the idea of learning a new skill under these conditions.

  After that the stories began.

  Dan McGuire had grown up in Toronto and run away when he was twelve. He slept in a dumpster. One time he woke up and he was being toppled head over heels with a bunch of supermarket garbage into a garbage truck and he barely got out with his life.

  “What about you, mister?” Angie asked.

  Greg said he’d led a really boring life. Nothing ever happened. Until this. Something about this was … he didn’t know, a turning point, maybe.

  “A crisis is always good for an adrenalin rush,” McGuire confirmed.“If you like it you should be a cop.”

  “Jeez, I never thought of being a cop.”

  “There’s worse things.”

  “Maybe a child psychologist. I might be good with kids.” He was still holding onto Angie, or she was hanging on to him. They were locked onto each other. He knew that Angie had taught him some serious stuff already. It was like a wake-up call for the dismally brain-dead.

  “In order to understand children, you have to be able to think like a kid,” Angie said. It was borrowed from her brother’s analysis of TV shows.

  “I could go with that.”

  Greg found some good second-hand stories to add. Close calls his college buddies had on fishing accidents and drinking binges. That sort of thing. McGuire said he’d jumped from a plane once while learning how to parachute. Something happened and he froze. His instructor saw his problem and dropped down out the sky right beside him, yanked his lead, and he landed okay, but he never quite got over it.

  Angie said she got bit by a dog once in West Orange. It was only a small dog but had sharp teeth. West Orange, everyone agreed, must be a very dangerous place.

  Plumes of water from the crashing waves washed right up over them a couple of times, but Dan had rigged some ropes along the rock face to keep them stable. It worked. They ate all the emergency rations in the dark as McGuire was keeping his underwater light off to conserve batteries. By around seven o’clock at night they were feeling tired and drained and Angie started to squirm and cry.

  “Almost there, kid. Gotta sit tight.”

  “But I hurt all over.”

  That’s when Greg decided to go for the green light. He crushed the end of it and the cool glow lit up the cavern with a truly wonderful green light show.

  “It’s like Mars or something.” Angie said.

  “It’s something, all right,” said Dan McGuire. And it took the edge off for a good twenty minutes. You could see the top of the tunnel to the sea now, but it was still completely filled. Another RCMP diver arrived with wetsuits, and it wasn’t easy to get out of the survival suits and into the new gear but the warmth of neoprene was welcome. The food was gone, the green glow had disappeared, and there was maybe eight inches of air space showing in the tunnel at eight-thirty that evening when McGuire got a raspy call on his two-way telling him that Freda had changed course. She had come across Sable Island and was heading towards Nova Scotia tonight. Low tide simply wasn’t going to happen.

  Greg understood and so did Angie.

  “You can’t sink in the wetsuit, honey,” Dan told her. “You don’t have to dive but you’re going to get a lot of salt water in the face.”

  “I can’t go through there.”

  “Yes, you can,” Greg said.“Dan and me, we’re going to hang onto you. You’ve got a wetsuit. You’ll be okay.”

  But just then another wave rolled through, filling the space to the top and roaring into the cavern. McGuire got on the radio and said he needed to know when there was a good lull. Word came back that Moses Slaunwhite was on his boat, still anchored offshore. He could watch for a break in the sets of waves and the news would be sent to McGuire’s men, who’d pass it on. It looked like the swell was building, Moses had said. The word was now or never.

  But just as Moses gave the word that a lull was upon them, Sylvie insisted they wait. Gre
g and Angie heard it all from McGuire’s radio.

  “I say we go,” Dan said.

  “No, we wait,” Greg insisted.

  Forty seconds later, by McGuire’s watch, the biggest wave of the day came roaring through and Greg held tightly onto Angie as the water seethed up around them.

  “Now. Go.” They heard Sylvie’s voice over the radio, choked with static.

  “Yes,” Greg said, and in the wake of the backwash, the air space left in the tunnel increased significantly. Both held onto the girl and swam like maniacs. McGuire had detached his tanks before they left. He’d worried the logic of it over and over until he decided the girl could not get out of there underwater, that’s all there was to it. He’d have to stay up and keep her up too, no matter what.

  They made it past the bend and could see faint evening light outside but they could also see the next set of waves — four waves in a row — coming at them. They couldn’t exit in time. McGuire forced Greg and Angie to the side of the wall and slammed himself against them both, gripping onto a crevice above his head. Angie squealed as the first wave tried to rip them away and she screamed as the second tugged harder. The third was not so bad but the fourth one knocked them back into the water. Greg still had Angie in his arms and McGuire was trying to keep them from being dragged back further into the tunnel. Then came the backwash and McGuire guided them to the centre of the tunnel, let it draw them towards safety. They made good headway but by the time they were at the mouth, the girl was coughing and sputtering and both men were near exhaustion.

  It was then that the Coast Guard Zodiac engine roared into life. The craft was steered in close, and a man pulled the girl up into the boat, but before Dan and Greg could get aboard, the helmsman was forced to turned seaward into a six-foot wall of white water. The Zodiac shot up into the air and over a mass of turbulent water and then headed back to sea. Just about then, Greg was slammed up against the rocky cliff and had the wind knocked out of him. He watched Dan trying to find something to get a grip on as the following wave tried to force him back into the cave like a spider being swept down the drain of a sink.