Maybe you did mean it that way. A little.
For a moment he felt like he was out of air again. Lightheaded and gripped by a sudden conviction that Sue was going to swim away. Like she'd rather die than deal with his unwanted and overenthusiastic declaration of affection.
She smiled.
Winked.
He didn't know if that meant she had taken his statement the right way. Or even what the right way was.
But he felt good.
We're going to make it.
Tim smiled back at Sue. The both of them now hanging fifty feet below the surface, grinning like fools and so close to each other he could practically feel her against him.
Yeah. There were worse ways to go.
His BC ran dry. He began sinking. That was a problem: he didn't want to fall back the way he'd come. Sue was lower, too, moving down a bit as her air bladders emptied.
He grabbed her with one hand. The anchor line with the other. Holding her. Out of air.
Worse ways to go.
Something hit him on the back of the head.
AFFECTIONS
~^~^~^~^~
"I love you."
It actually came out more like "By of you," but Sue understood it. Even spoken underwater on shallow breath, it was clear enough.
She'd had men tell her that before. Some of them saw the words as a shortcut to Sexville. Others actually meant it. Either way, they were always awful words. A loaded gun held to her head.
"I love you." Three words, but there was always more unsaid. "Are you gonna get naked or what?" "I think we should be exclusive." "Let's move in together." And, worst of all, "Do you love me?"
"I love you" always signaled the end. Of whatever the guy had or hoped to have with her.
So when Tim said it, she should have felt that way. More, since she barely knew him.
But she didn't. The words made her feel… good. A strange sensation, hanging in the middle of nothing, sucking fumes and only seconds from suffocation.
But she liked it.
She grinned at him. He grinned back.
Felt good.
And she saw something drop toward them. A dark blur at first, then a semblance of shape, a promise from above.
It headed straight for Tim. She moved to warn him, but before the motion was even half-begun, it hit him in the back of the head.
He lurched toward her. Arms going around her reflexively. She could barely feel it through her suit and her gear and the numbness of a body too long immersed in cold, cold water.
So why does it make me feel like a bear hug?
She didn't have time to answer that question – though she suspected she knew. She had to grab the pair of air tanks that had fallen from above. Gifts from God – or Jimmy J.
Tim had reeled in Geoffrey's body, then let go of it after writing "SEND AIR" across the corpse's forehead, just above the white orb of his remaining eye.
Then he wrote it on each cheek, and on Geoffrey's hands and on the light blue arms of his wetsuit. Then let it go.
The corpse still wore its BC, and was still positively buoyant. It floated up. But slowly – so slowly Sue didn't know if it would reach the surface in time. And even if it did, what if it was dragged away by the ocean's current? The current wasn't as stiff here as it had been at the bottom, but it was still definitely present. What if the body went to a side of the boat where no one was watching?
What if this was hopeless?
But just as she and Tim ran out of the last of their air – the air each had in their BCs, pumped in there from their tanks in order to buoy them up and float them to the surface – a pair of tanks fell down to them.
And now they had air. They had time.
They were going to make it.
CALLED
~^~^~^~^~
Sue's head broke the surface, and before her mouth was even above the water she had ripped out her regulator. An instant later she sucked in a great, gasping breath of air.
It tasted better than the best meal. Better than the most expensive wine. It was an ecstatic experience the likes of which could only be felt by someone who has faced a forward rush by the Grim Reaper and somehow managed to sidestep that final charge.
A spray of water signaled Tim breaking the surface and following her lead beat for beat.
They laughed. Another good feeling. He hugged her.
Perhaps the best feeling of all.
Sue looked around. They had come up about six feet off the dive platform. It looked like afternoon, and that was an almost jarring realization.
Shouldn't it be later? Didn't we stay down there longer… like forever?
But no. Same day. Just a few hours that had felt like that many lifetimes and more.
They paddled to the dive platform. Her father was already waiting for her, his hand reaching down to help her up. Jimmy J helped Tim, wincing for some reason as Tim's hand went up the younger man's arm.
Mercedes, she was glad to see, was already there. Taking off her gear.
Haeberle was there, too. She was less glad to see that. Tried to be happy – he was a human being, he deserved a measure of joy at the fact that he had survived – but utterly failed.
"You okay, Sue?" said Cal. "I was so worried when the others came up without you."
"I'm okay."
"You hurt? Did you –"
"I'm okay!"
The words came out harsher than she expected. More an attack than a response. She hadn't meant to do it, but just as suddenly as her elation had been born, it died. Yes, she had made it. Yes, she had come back home.
But she'd seen Debi's tank.
Is that all that's left of her?
She saw something beyond her father. A lump covered by a tarp. Geoffrey's body, certainly.
Did that happen to Deb? Was she torn apart, ripped open, one blank eye staring into death for eternity?
Cal seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Did you…." He gulped. Licked dry lips. "Did you find anything?"
She knew what he really meant. Not "Did you find anything?" but "Did you find Debi?"
"No. Yes." She sighed and shrugged out of her tanks. "I found a tank with her name on it."
Her father looked down. Staring at his feet or perhaps beyond them – trying to find his daughter's body through the boat and the intervening tons of water. An impossible challenge, but it was an impossible moment. Facing the very real likelihood that his daughter was gone.
Sue felt numb all of a sudden. Elation at her survival gone, burgeoning grief fled. She just stood there, motionless and unsure what to do next.
She heard Tim, speaking to Mercedes and Haeberle. "You guys okay?"
Mercedes nodded. She looked exhausted. But beyond that there was a strange sense of… something. Sue couldn't put her finger on it.
Something happened to her down there.
But what?
"Yeah," said Mercedes.
"Fine," said Haeberle.
"What did you find?" said another voice. Mr. Raven, stepping out of the salon. Somehow it didn't surprise her that while her father and Jimmy J watched anxiously for the divers' return, Mr. Raven had been relaxing in solitude.
"Nothing," said Haeberle. "Just sand and fish."
Mr. Raven took a breath that somehow communicated not merely irritation at the answer, but at the entire universe. Like he was convinced he'd won some cosmic lottery but the payment check kept bouncing.
He turned to Mercedes. "What about you?"
"Same." She swallowed visibly, then looked away. "There was a trunk or a chest or something, but…." She gulped again. "It was empty."
She's lying.
What did she see?
Mr. Raven looked like he was thinking exactly the same thing as Sue. He stared at Mercedes, waiting for more.
She didn't say anything.
"What happened to Geoffrey?" said Jimmy J. Sue almost answered, but realized he was talking to Tim.
Tim was stripping off his gear
. He glanced at the tarp on the deck. "He panicked. Got bitten by an eel and beelined for daylight."
Jimmy J gaped. "You are crapping me."
Tim shook his head.
Mr. Raven looked at the sky. "Well, it's too late for us to go again today." He looked at the group. "So we'll rest up for tomorrow's dive."
"Go again?" Tim's voice rose to a high spike. "Did you not see what happened?" He pointed to where Geoffrey's body lay. "We already lost one person."
Mr. Raven shrugged. "You said he panicked. The rest of the divers seem better-equipped, so –"
"No!" Tim flung his arms in the air. "We can't do this again. It's too dangerous!"
Mr. Raven's mouth firmed into a bloodless line. "This is still my ship, Tim. Besides… what if the others want to go?"
Haeberle spoke up almost immediately, only pausing for a strangely pregnant glance at Mr. Raven. "I'm going again."
The next voice came forward almost as fast, though from a surprising source. "Me, too," said Mercedes. That was a shock: Mercedes was a good diver, but this was a whole new level for her. And her face was white, pinched, drawn. She looked like she'd seen –
(a ghost?)
– something terrible down there. Some terrifying revelation that amounted to a look in her own empty grave.
And now she was stepping deep into the hole.
Sue's father shook his head. Stepped to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Not us. It's too –"
A voice interrupted him. "I'm going." And it actually took a heartbeat for Sue to realize it had been her.
After what just happened?
You know what happened to Deb. There's no reason to go.
But I don't know. Not really.
And she realized she was never going to win this argument with herself. Realized, too, that she didn't care what its outcome was. She was going – the need was strange, fundamental, nearly primordial. An urging from some long-forgotten part of her, a siren that called only to the deep parts that operated on levels that consisted solely of pleasure/pain, stimulus/response.
This wasn't about Debi. Not anymore.
What is it about, then? What am I trying to do?
(Where am I? What's happened to me?)
The final sounds of reason were just echoes in her mind, fading shadows of themselves. There was suddenly only a drive to return, to explore, to –
(die)
– find whatever was down there. And then….
And then….
Her father was talking, she realized. And she wondered how long he had been doing so, how long she had disappeared into a circle of confusion caused by her own actions.
"… You just can't be serious," he said. "You found her tank, what more –"
Again the words came without her conscious choice. "We still don't know. Not for sure. I have to know."
Lies. It wasn't about Deb.
What is it about?
A sliver of her mind was screaming. The part that realized the call to return to the deep was new. Even before the first time she went down, the call to explore what lay below hadn't been this powerful.
Now, though….
"There," said Mr. Raven. His voice was gentle, as though he were linked to her, knew that she was in a fragile place and didn't want to shift her from her current determination. "That settles it. We recharge the tanks, get some rest. Another big day tomorrow."
He turned toward the salon, then stopped and swiveled back to face Jimmy J. "So sorry, Jimmy. You're the only one who didn't get a chance to go. Would you like to try and go today?"
Jimmy suddenly looked like he did want to. More than anything. Like what lay below was, for him, everything that made life worth living. Then he winced and his hand went to his arm. "I think I better sit this one out. A bit sore. But I'll take point tomorrow." He looked at Tim. "You deserve a rest, that's for sure."
Tim didn't say anything. Sue wondered what he was feeling, if he felt the same –
(pull)
– desire to go into the water again.
His expression was dark. He looked concerned. Afraid.
Of what? What's there to be afraid of?
That thin piece of her mind cried out again. Danger, death, only death will find you down there.
The rest of her brain shouted louder. Shouted of answers, and reunions, and the most basic and important of joys.
She was called.
And she would answer.
SHIFT
~^~^~^~^~
Night.
The boat is silent. Or nearly so.
The darkness outside seems to have pervaded everything. A seeping sickness that, once contracted, cannot be healed.
Silence. Repose save a few small pockets of motion. Like rats hiding behind baseboards. Cringing, waiting for inevitable destruction.
Hunted.
The ship creaks. A shifting that signals nothing save the shift of the hull, microscopic expansions and contractions endemic to any vessel.
There are two bodies where one used to lay. A bundle of arms and legs, trunks and heads. The one who was found first now covered by the grisly blanket of another corpse. Both hidden from view by a dark tarp.
Death. Only death.
Then something shifts under the tarp.
Motion.
It is night, and the boat is silent.
Or nearly so.
GOD
~^~^~^~^~
Haeberle sat in the corner of the salon. Watching.
At the table, Jimmy J, Cal, and Raven played a game of poker. Jimmy J was winning, slapping down cards over and over and screaming, "Eat that cheese, bitches!" every time he did so. Cal and Raven would grimace, toss in their own cards, then watch Jimmy J rake in whatever chips had accumulated.
In another corner: Mercedes. She was staring at nothing. Looking like she was lost in thought, though of course that was impossible. Since Haeberle was the only one who was really alive, he was the only one who could really think, really hope or dream or love or hate.
But she looked amazing, in spite of her non-reality. Sitting there in a t-shirt that showed off her curves and a pair of cutoff jeans shorts that were so short the pockets showed against her upper thighs.
Soon. She was almost ready, almost ripe.
He felt a grin stretch across his face. Did not stop it. It was good to indulge. Good to revel in the fear of his imagined creatures.
Mercedes caught him looking. He grinned even wider. Showing as many teeth as possible. Gramma, what big teeth you have.
And he knew how that story would end for this woman.
Mercedes looked away. Looked at her feet. And that was right, too. Subjects should remain with eyes cast down when confronted by the overwhelming reality of their God.
There was a noise beside him. Tim came up the stairs. Looking irritated, vaguely uncertain. He caught Haeberle's look, the leering smile he was lavishing on Mercedes.
Haeberle cranked the smile a little wider. Keeping Tim in the corner of his vision, but ignoring him to all appearances.
Tim frowned.
Haeberle: just that smile. Even bigger now, because he wasn't just fantasizing about the inevitable moment when Mercedes threw herself at him, but at the image of taking her while killing Tim at the same time. Sex and violence intertwined into a beautiful tapestry of sensation, of joy.
Tim left the room.
Haeberle kept watching Mercedes. She kept looking away.
And that was right. For he was a king, a God, and something greater than both.
TOGETHER
~^~^~^~^~
Tim found Sue sitting on the edge of the dive platform. Her feet dangled off the side, hanging only inches from the water. Tim wanted to tell her not to do that, wanted to remind her about the fish and the strange ways they had acted.
What if something worse happened?
But he held his peace. Everyone was acting strangely – except Haeberle, who had started out weird and so was functioning on more or
less the same level he always had.
But Sue? Insisting on going again? And Mercedes? That didn't make sense. It didn't add up to come so close to death the way they both had said they had during the telling of what had happened to each –
(But they didn't really tell us. They left things out, especially Mercedes.)
– and then to hunger to return. Even the most driven daredevils and adrenaline-junkies would wait. Would cool off. Would dive in a different place – a place that made sense.
The ocean floor rising.
The fish swarming.
What happened to Geoffrey.
None of it – none – made any sense.
He remained silent. Just went and stood behind her a moment. Sue didn't say anything, didn't indicate she wanted to be alone with her thoughts, so he sat next to her.
"You going to warn me not to go again?"
Yes. "No. I already said what I have to say. You're a big girl."
"You going to ask why?"
He shook his head. "You'll either tell me or you won't. I'll take what you give."
He was painfully aware how the last part of that could be taken. And couldn't bring himself to care too much, because it was true on every level.
And that was him acting crazy. Because he barely knew this woman, this captivating person. Just the conversations they'd had over the past days, the shared experience below.
Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the look at death that drew him so strongly to her. When staring at mortality, we all feel the urge to cling to others. To not go gentle into that dark night, and if the dark night must be entered, not to go alone. We hold each other at arm's length so often in life, where the greatest tragedy is that love is so often felt but so rarely expressed. But when night falls, we reach out – some of us for the first time – and quest for the saving touch of a beloved.
So maybe that was what had happened. And maybe that was enough. Relationships had certainly started with less.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Another rarity for Tim: most people needed to fill up empty spaces with nothings, with unimportant proofs of their own existence. They filled display cases with nick-nacks that represented memories they owned, they filled rooms with furniture that expressed who they were and how real their lives, and they filled silences with empty speech to keep at bay the creeping fear that they did not matter to anyone or anything.
The Deep 2015.06.23 Page 16
