by K. T. Tomb
Still no response. He glanced at the oxygen meter in his mini-console on his wrist. He had no choice. He could not go after Harper without risking his own life and suffocating himself. He had to get out without the diamonds. He turned and found his way out the overhead window and began to steadily kick the long journey back to the surface.
Chapter Six
June 18, 2014
Latitude 41° 43' 57" North, longitude 49° 56' 49" West
Franco's head finally breached the surface of the ocean. The sky looked gray and overcast and the waves of the ocean tossed him like a cork in the vast sea. He emerged some distance from the ship and had not been able to contact the ship through the comm link. Immediately, he began to swim toward the support vessel as fast as his fatigued arms could fight against the waves. He had no way to signal the ship. Franco already felt the effects of numbness in his fingertips and toes. He knew he needed to get aboard and into the decompression chamber as quickly as possible to avoid any long term effects from decompression sickness. After swimming for a few yards, he finally heard the sound that gave him a sense of relief.
“There he is!” Lisa called out from the edge of the vessel.
She ran to the edge of the diving platform and shouted to Captain Martin to move the ship toward Franco. Nick joined her at the edge of the platform. Franco's arms gave out just as Nick and Lisa reached for him, plucking him out of the ocean and placing him on his side on the deck of the vessel. Immediately, Lisa pulled his mask off and allowed him to purge the oxygenated liquid from his body.
“Help me get the suit off of him.”
Captain Martin had emerged from the cabin and the three of them worked on Franco. Lisa pulled him onto the stretcher, keeping him on his side, and rolled him to sick bay while Nick and the captain freed him from the suit. They worked frantically until the stretcher rolled into the large decompression chamber inside the sick bay. Lisa rolled the stretcher into the large tube-like structure. Captain Martin pulled the door closed with a loud clang, turning the large lock which ensured the integrity of the false atmosphere and saving Franco's life.
“Will he be okay?” Nick asked, as they stood next to the medic and the captain.
“Yes,” Lisa replied. “I gave him a sedative, mainly to get him into the chamber. I thought we'd lost him for sure. I'm glad we stayed in case they ascended. Now that he's in the chamber, he'll regulate. He'll be okay.”
“What about Harper?” Nick asked.
“I don't know,” Lisa said. “I lost him on the monitors.”
“Harper's gone,” the captain said from the door of the sick bay.
The other two looked at him and he wore on his face a look of such finality that neither could find the words to answer him.
***
When Franco opened his eyes, he immediately recognized the surgical white walls of the decompression chamber. He felt well enough to sit up, pulling himself to the edge of the stretcher he laid on. He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath, grateful for the technology of the chamber which had saved his life. He stood carefully to make sure there was enough room in the small room for him to not hit his head. When he found he had room to stand fully, he stretched his arms out, flexing his muscles. He turned to look through the small window on the wall of the chamber. He knew that the outside monitor would alert Lisa to him waking. He walked to the window to shade his eyes and look out. What he saw stopped his breath. Scrawled across the width of the window in rust colored letters, dripping from an unknown moisture, Franco saw the words:
SAVE US!
Franco leaped back from the window, stumbling against the stretcher. The presence of the letters caused him to picture once again the bloated, black-fingered hands reaching for him. Except this time they scrawled across the plexiglass window the letters spelling out the message before him, leaving a carrion trail. He closed his eyes tightly to will himself to wake up, clearly he must be dreaming, he reasoned. He opened his eyes again, but the words remained. Franco lay akimbo on the stretcher, staring at the words. Finally, the voice of the medic came across the speaker into the chamber.
“Good afternoon, Franco,” Lisa said. “How are you feeling?”
He answered by making a weak sound as words could not come to him. The words glared at him from the window, inside the window.
“Say that again, Franco. I couldn't quite hear you.” Lisa said.
“Ghost,” Franco mumbled finally. “Followed me.”
Lisa walked up to the window. Franco could see her face through the lens. He saw that she could view the words scrawled there. “Oh, my God,” she said. “What did that?”
“I can tell you what I saw down there and what I think it is, but I'd really like to get out of this chamber if that is okay,” Franco said.
An hour later, Franco, Nick, Lisa and Captain Martin sat around the table in the kitchen mess hall of the support vessel. Franco explained what they had witnessed below in the Titanic, describing the vision of Darya and Stephan dancing in the ballroom, the eerie sound of the ship's quartet playing the last song they had ever played, over and over again for the trapped souls.
“What struck me about the vision was the clarity of it. As if we were there. The ship looked as it must have before it had sunk,” Franco said.
He turned to Nick.
“I'm sorry I didn't believe you before.”
Nick shrugged.
“It's not something that happens every day.”
Captain Martin took a swig of his coffee, and then said, “We need to cancel the dive, and get the ship back to harbor. I'm not losing another diver on my watch.”
As soon as he spoke these words, the doors to the overhead cabinets began to open and slam shut. The ship was not unsteady as the waves had already subsided. The cabinets continued to slam open and then closed; all of them causing such a noise that the others could not even speak above the raucous sound. Franco motioned to the manifestation. The movement of the doors escalated, the repetitive slams overcoming the room. The table began to shake independently, causing the coffee mugs to vibrate to the edge and fall off one at a time. Lisa clung to the table, willing it to be still but the vibration jolted her back.
“What's going on!” Lisa shouted over the noise.
“They want something from us!” Nick said loudly. “I could sense that during the dive. I saw Stephan get murdered by Vlad. I know that now. And now this message. 'Save us'. They want us to do something.”
“Yes,” Lisa said. “But what? What do you want from us? We can't help you if we don't know!” she cried out above the cacophony.
As soon as she said that, the noise stopped. The cabinet doors went still. The table stopped shaking. The room became silent.
“I can't take this,” Nick said, suddenly raking his fingers through his hair, leaving it splayed wildly about his head. “I'm done! I'm not going back. Matvei can get those diamonds himself. I'm not doing it!”
Franco stood.
“I'm going to talk to Matvei. He gave me a cell phone to contact him if there was any type of emergency circumstances. I'm pretty sure this qualifies. We have to abandon the mission.”
“This is heartbreaking,” the aged voice of Leo Matvei said to Franco, as he sat alone in his cabin.
Franco had explained everything to him about the visions and the found diary, and had even read the relevant pages to him.
“But, this makes sense,” Matvei said. “There has always been a hidden... unrest in the family since the disappearance of those diamonds. Some say the loss of the dowry jewels awoke a curse on our kin. The unrest of Aunt Darya's soul would explain this. Others in the family are a little more skeptical. They simply think this sadness of her family has seeped into the next generations through the bloodlines.”
“We have to abandon the dive,” Franco explained wearily to the man who had hired him. He tried to remain polite, but he did not want to listen to the sentimental waxings of the old man.
“We've
lost one diver, and with him gone, we are short one suit. This expedition is a wash.”
“Not necessarily,” Matvei said. “I have an idea. Do you have something to write with? Something that would survive the depths of the dive if taken down to the Titanic?”
Franco thought through the equipment manifest.
“Yes, we do.”
“The young man who speaks Russian. Is he there? May I speak with him?” Matvei asked.
“Yes,” Franco replied. “Let me get him.”
He carried the phone to Nick's quarters, and the two of them sat and listened to the plan with Matvei on speaker phone. After he explained, Franco left and allowed Nick to sit and take down a transcription from the man on the phone. Franco walked to the equipment area to prepare for one more dive. This time Franco had no choice but to make the dive alone.
Chapter Seven
June 19, 2014
Latitude 41° 43' 57" North, longitude 49° 56' 49" West
Franco descended into the deafening silence of the deep sea to the Titanic, his face a blank mask of concentration. Underneath the professional exterior, he felt a current of fear running through him. He had no idea if Matvei's plan would work, or even if he would return from this dive at all. He wondered if he might face the same fate as Harper, after all, and assumed that Harper had come for him with the broken pipe with the intention of cutting his wet suit and watching him implode under the pressure of the sea. What Franco did not know, however, was why Harper had been dragged away. Were the spirits of the Titanic protecting Franco, or were they trying to keep the diamonds from being taken? Until that moment the ghosts had shown little sign of malevolence. Franco checked the carrying pouch at his side as he continued to kick downward through the dark ocean. The contents remained secure. Soon, the dark shadow of the Titanic emerged in the light of his headlamp.
“Visual on target,” he spoke through the comm link.
“Affirmative,” Nick said from the station in the support vessel. “Everything looks good, Franco. You got this.”
“Affirmative,” Franco said.
Franco kicked forward until he was close enough to pull his feet forward and descend upon the deck of the Titanic once more. This time, he hoped, for the final time. Before he had left the support vessel, Franco and Nick had studied the map of the ship to determine where Darya had led them during the last dive. They had found the path taken to the dining room. Franco replayed this path in his head as he began his slow motion trek toward the room. The white halls looked ominous reflecting back the light from his headlamp, but Franco pressed forward, absently clutching the bag attached to his suit. Hallway after hallway, he replayed the turns in his mind. Left, then right. Then right again. So far there had been no sign of disturbance as there had been last time. No visions or strange noises. No slamming of doors or keening wails. The silence felt worse. Much worse. Franco continued on. At last, he rounded a corner, exposing the beveled glass doors that he and Harper had seen on the last dive. He approached slowly, unsure what would happen. When he approached, he reached out and touched one of the glass panes. The door seemed to open of its own accord. Franco did not know if a current caused the motion or if the ghosts of the Titanic were welcoming him once more. He entered the dining room.
Immediately, the room brightened to reveal its previous state. The windows shone impossibly bright. The tables and chairs gleamed like newly polished wood, and the chandeliers seemed to glow from within. The noticeable difference was that this time the room was all but abandoned. Franco stood waiting. Not a soul emerged. The dais on which the quartet had previously played stood vacant. Franco looked across the expanse of the large room. In the center, next to the dance floor, he finally saw her. Darya sat at one of the tables. He was certain she had not been there prior to that moment. He began to move toward her. He could see that she still wore the white dressing gown in which she must have died. Her head was down, buried in her arms resting on the table. As he neared, he heard the sound of her crying, weeping over her lost love. He neared her, making his way through the maze of tables. Finally, he reached the woman, steadying himself to reach out to touch her shoulder. His hand passed through her incorporeal manifestation, causing a cold chill to pass through his hand where he made contact with her.
Wordlessly she raised her head, facing Franco with a look of puzzlement. He could see the tear stained streaks staining her cheeks, red with emotion. Her hair hung wildly down her back, the unkempt curls creating a dark halo around her pale face and luminous wide eyes. Franco lifted the bag, detaching it from the belt of his wetsuit. He reached inside and first pulled out the locket. He opened the small picture revealing the image of herself and Stephan. He placed the locket on the table before her, carefully watching her face. She reached forward as if to touch the locket, her fingertips hovering over the small pictures. He could see the emotion dancing over the features of her visage. He reached again into the bag, watching her as her eyes followed his movements. He pulled out the letter that Leo had transcribed to Nick, sealed in a laminated sheath which protected it from the effects of the sea. He placed the letter on the table next to the locket and stood back a bit allowing her to read it.
My dear Darya,
My name is Leonid Matvei. I am the grandson of your younger sister, Masha Nikita. It has been brought to my attention that you are feeling great unrest after your passing. Please accept this message as one who is of your family line, your kin, your blood. Accept the message that I bring to you and allow yourself to feel the peace to let go of the unrest of this world.
Your family did not learn of your passing until they found your name listed aboard the manifest of the Titanic. According to the stories passed down through the generations from your family to myself, my great-aunt, Darya Nikita, had run away with her lover aboard the fated ship. Of course, your family was greatly distraught at the sinking of the ship, thinking you lost at sea. Soon, it became apparent that neither you nor Stephan had survived the sinking.
There was a great sadness at your passing, but please believe that your family has forgiven you, and hope that you can in turn forgive us. Love is the greatest thing that any of us can dare to find as we walk through this life. Any of us can only hope to find the love that you and Stephan had felt for each other. You had found that love, and your family had dared to try and keep you from it. For that I ask your forgiveness, blood to blood.
Your sister, Masha, who would have been eight at the time you left, grew into a wonderful woman. She married at the age of nineteen and had six children. The youngest of those children was my mother, Ivanka. Baba Masha, as she had been known by her grandchildren, was much loved. She spoke of you to me when I was but a child.
Know that your death loosened a hard tradition within the family. The practice of parental influence for the purpose of sustaining the family name and resources, no longer fell upon the shoulders of the daughter in the family. In short, you saved Masha from an arranged marriage as well. The family saw the strength of your love for Stephan. And only love can come from love.
Find peace in this message, Darya. Go to Stephan. Be released from your anguish and be at rest.
All my love,
Leo Matvei
Darya lifted her eyes from the page before her and looked at Franco with her vacant eyes. He could see a small tear trailing down her cheek. He suspected this might be for the first time for her that this was a tear of release and not of sadness. A moment passed between them. All of the fear that Franco had felt up to this moment faded away. Darya smiled, and Franco felt a wave of gratitude coming from her. He stood silently, unsure what to do next. Across the dining room on the far side of the open floor, Franco saw a figure standing where there had been none before. A young man whom Franco recognized instantly as Stephan.
Darya turned and saw her beloved across the room. An ethereal white light radiated from around Stephan. He looked different than he had when Franco had seen him last. He still wore the simple clothing h
e had worn, but a shift had occurred that Franco could not quite pinpoint. Darya stood and turned toward her lover as if seeing him for the first time. Franco slowly moved out of the way of the dance floor; he felt almost as if he were spying unwittingly on a very private moment. He realized then what looked different about Stephan. As Darya took a step toward him, he recognized that the deep red marks on Stephan's neck no longer showed. The ugly red stain on his torso had also vanished. He looked at Darya and realized as she raised her arms to Stephan that her arms showed no more gashes on the wrists. The ghostly pale skin showed whole and untouched once more.
The light that surrounded Stephan encapsulated Darya when she reached him, surrounding her in the aura. He raised his arms to embrace her, extending his arm to hers and taking hold of her around her waist. Stephan swept her suddenly into a grand waltz around the expanse of the dance floor and Franco realized that from somewhere he heard the lilting sound of the music again: “Nearer My God, To Thee”. The music swelled around the two dancing from an unknown source, almost as if the music emanated from the dancers themselves. The light grew brighter. Franco had to squint and raise his hand before his face to keep from turning away from the celestial image. Still they danced, swirling and circling with increasing intensity around the floor. Franco could just make out their faces, gazing into each other’s eyes, smiling, rapturous and peaceful. At last the light became so bright that Franco could only see the silhouette of them. The music heightened to a great crescendo and they faded into the light with the final note of the waltz. Darya and Stephan had vanished into the light.
The sound of the music faded.
