The Deep 2015.06.23

by Michaelbrent Collings

  Sue… silence. Not cold, but warm. The silence of a friend who knows you are there, and who knows you care. He suspected she would sit like this with almost anyone. An inclusive mentality, the willingness to extend personal space to more than the few people she really knew.

  Rare.

  Beautiful.

  Something flashed in the edges of the boat's lights. A silvery splash that could have been the motion of a swell, could have been something else.

  The comfort of the moment disappeared.

  "I've never seen fish act like that," he said. "You?"

  "Not like that. I was in the middle of a school of tuna once. Couldn't tell up from down. Scary, but wonderful, too. Like I was in the midst of this big dance, this natural thing that no one ever gets to see. When it was over I was sad." She licked her –

  (lovely)

  – lips and continued, "That's not how I felt today."

  "No," he agreed. "That didn't feel natural at all."

  They fell silent again. But not the convivial silence of good friends. Instead it was the hush of tiny creatures in the dark, knowing the wolves are out in force.

  And hungry.

  TARP

  ~^~^~^~^~

  The tarp that had covered one corpse for a day, and now shielded two from view…

  … was moved aside.

  HISTORY

  ~^~^~^~^~

  Tim moved a bit closer to Sue, and she didn't mind a bit. It was cold – not merely the cold of a night on the open sea, but the deeper chill of things unknown, and perhaps unknowable.

  "Where'd you learn to dive?" he said. A nothing question, a question that took her mind away from the unpleasantness of now and back to the good feelings of a bright then.

  "My mom. She did underwater photography and she taught me and my sister to swim as soon as we could walk. I do photography now, too."

  "She must be proud."

  "She would be, if she was alive."

  "I'm sorry."

  Sue shrugged. A motion that she knew said less "It's okay" than "I hurt." "She went out on a trip looking to photo a whale shark, some other exotic fish. Captain came back without her. Said she just went out in the morning and never came back." She turned to Tim. Took in his expression, drank in his calm. "I can't let that happen again," she said. "I can't let another person disappear. I've got to find her, or at least find out for sure what happened to her."

  He smiled, and in the smile she saw clearly the question, "Why isn't finding her tank enough?" But he didn't say that. He let the question rest – perhaps not dead, but at least asleep for the time being – and said instead, "What was Debi doing here?"

  Sue hadn't told anyone about Debi's work. Not sure how they would react. And she still wasn't – but she took a blind step. A move in faith that she hoped wouldn't push Tim away. Because a lot of people who worked on the waves held them in esteem, in reverence.

  Not Debi. She would be anathema to those types.

  "She worked for a chemical company. The kind of outfit that strips everything of value out of earth, air, and sea. We… disagreed about the fundamental value of the ocean. She just saw it as a place that could be mined. Literally."

  Tim frowned. She said, "Did you know there's sixteen trillion dollars' worth of platinum in the world's seawater?"

  Tim looked bemused. It was a cute expression. "I knew there was gold, but…."

  "Gold, platinum, uranium. Riches untold."

  "But it's all too expensive to get out," he said. "I think I read that somewhere. Isn't it harder than mining an asteroid would be?"

  She nodded. "Yes. Until now. Apparently Nelson Chem – that's the company Debi worked for – found an agent that bonds with the heavier metals in seawater, then creates some kind of gel around them as part of the process and floats them to the surface of the sea."

  "But?" said Tim.

  She grimaced. "But from what Debi told me, it kills pretty much everything within a mile of the sea-mining." She laughed. "That's what she called it: sea-mining. Like she was just digging in a dead mountain."

  Tim gawked at her. "That's insane. Why would anyone do something like that?" he said, gesturing at the ocean.

  She shrugged. "Money. The fact that the ocean dies a bit at a time isn't nearly as important as the fact that pockets get lined."

  "I take it you and she were at odds over this?" said Tim.

  "Yeah."

  "I get that."

  "But I still love her."

  "I bet you do."

  Tim and Sue turned toward the source of the last words spoken. The comfortable feeling they had held between them fled as she saw who stood behind them.

  Haeberle wasn't looking at them. He stared at the starry sky, a strange expression on his face.

  He rubbed his arms. The motion was familiar for some reason, though at first Sue couldn't understand what was familiar about it.

  Jimmy J. That's how he rubs his arm.

  She frowned, wondering why the motion suddenly scared her.

  "You need something, Haeberle?" said Tim. His voice was hard, all flat planes and sharp edges.

  Haeberle smiled dreamily. "That's the question, isn't it?" Sue looked at Tim, and his expression mirrored the one on her own face: an uneven mix of confusion and concern. Haeberle sounded odd. Even for him. Tones that rose and fell like those of a sleepwalker, speaking to those not present.

  The man turned to them. Captured Tim with his gaze. "You ever wonder what's down there?" he said. "Really down there?"

  "Sure. All the time."

  "Not me. Not until today." Haeberle chuckled, the laugh catching in his throat and emerging rough and lacerated. "That being narced is something else. I liked it. Made me feel… light. Like I was me for the first time ever."

  Sue didn't respond. Tim was silent. But there was something new in the air. A tension that went beyond the "normal" discomfort Haeberle always brought to the table.

  "You didn't tell me about the visions, though."

  Tim frowned at this. "Visions? I don't –"

  "A woman," said Haeberle. He spoke as though he hadn't heard Tim's words. Or as though they just didn't matter. "Beautiful. Swimming away from me. I followed her – she wanted me, I know she did. Made me horny as hell. But she was too fast for me." Now he turned his eyes to Sue. She had heard of being undressed with someone's eyes – had even experienced it on several uncomfortable occasions – but this was the first time she ever felt violated. "Too fast for me," whispered Haeberle. A smile crawled over his face. He kept staring at her. "The fast ones are the most heartbreaking, don't you think?"

  And he left. Just turned on his heel and went to the salon door and went in. He nearly collided with Mercedes, who was coming out as he went in. She limped a bit, her leg bound in a white strip of gauze that covered the shallow shark bites she had surfaced with.

  "Well, that was a first-class ticket to Creepyville," said Sue.

  "Agreed," said Tim. "I don't think you should be alone with that guy." He broadened his gaze to include Mercedes, who was holding herself for warmth in the chill sea air. But she didn't go in the salon, and Sue couldn't blame her. "I don't think either of you should be alone with him," Tim continued.

  "You either," said Sue. "I don't get the sense he's what you'd call a discriminating psycho."

  Tim laughed. Visibly trying to lighten the darkness that seemed to accompany Haeberle and settle wherever he went. "What about you, Mercedes?" he said.

  The other woman almost jumped. Sue had the impression that the woman was trying to hide – not from sight, but simply from the awareness of those around her. A chameleon who had been birthed in some kind of pain.

  "What do you mean?" said Mercedes.

  Sue gestured at her before Tim could answer. Beckoning for the woman to join them. Tim was on her left, so Sue patted the spot on her right.

  "Why are you going down?" Tim clarified. "It's not a good idea – for any of us. I get why Haeberle's going – he wants trea
sure, and apparently he's got a girlfriend waiting for him down there. And Sue's got her sister. But you?"

  Mercedes' next words surprised Sue: "I wasn't even supposed to be here." She laughed. No happiness in the sound, just a hollow sense of loss.

  "What do you mean?" said Tim. "You booked with us a year ago."

  "I know. And six months after that I found out my husband's been banging some whore from his office. Three months later he proclaims his intention to keep the kids. So I wasn't about to come here. Too much time away – from the courts, from the kids he already has believing I'm the one at fault." Mercedes' eyes glimmered. She wiped them, but the shine remained. Tears tracked down her cheeks. "But the court ruled in his favor last week. He gets the kids. He gets to keep his money. He gets to keep his whore."

  "That's bullshit!" The words surprised Sue, even though they came from her own mouth. She knew that she was only hearing one side of the story, but she didn't think Mercedes was lying. There was too much grief, too much pain for her to be the culpable party in the dispute she described.

  Mercedes laughed that empty laugh again. "That's the court system: the one who has the trickiest accountant proves he hasn't really got ten million in overseas accounts, and the one with the best lawyer convinces the court it's not even worth the time to look and why shouldn't the kids live with him?" She shook her head. Her fists balled at her sides, but Sue didn't get the sense she was angry. It was more as though she was holding on with her last strength to the sense of self she had once enjoyed.

  "I guess I figured I might as well come on the dive," she continued. "Since it was pretty much the only thing I still have in my name. And something about what happened the other day… I wanted to believe in a treasure. I know it's silly, but what if there was more gold? Enough to take back with me, enough for me to be the one with the better attorney?" Now her fists did seem angry. The rage on her face clear as she said, "I'd like to see him on the losing side for once in his life. And I'd like to hire someone to break the whore's fingers and pop her fake tits." She closed her eyes. "I'm joking about that last part. I think."

  "Why?" said Tim. "It's what I'd want to do. Though I guess if my spouse cheated on me with a whore with fake tits I'd be living a whole different lifestyle. So who knows?"

  He smiled, trying to jolly Mercedes out of her funk. It seemed to work, if only a little. And the small kindness made him all the more endearing. Sue thought he wasn't just interesting, not just an object of infatuation. Tim was….

  She searched for a word. Finally came up with good. Nothing fancy, nothing ornate. Just a basic quality that spoke of someone who treated others well, who was careful to leave the world a better place than he found it.

  Yeah, that was Tim. Good.

  "You still have those kids, you know," he continued. "And this dive isn't worth dying for." He threw a sidelong glance at Sue. "For either of you."

  A pregnant silence. Mercedes didn't break it. Neither did Sue, though she knew Tim was hoping they would both say they'd changed their minds.

  But they couldn't.

  Why not? Why can't I just let this go? Just drop it, you know she's dead, you know there's no chance so –

  The thought cut off as hard and fast as if she had been knocked unconscious. The line of questions ran into a wall that prevented further thought. Prevented her from talking herself out of this –

  (insane)

  – quest to find Debi's remains or other concrete proof of her death.

  For a single instant, a moment so fast it barely existed, Sue wondered why she couldn't even contemplate not going back. Like she had become a fish on a hook, a dumb creature that knew it was being pulled inexorably toward something, but had no understanding of why or how to slip the barb.

  Tim sighed. "I guess we're going again tomorrow, then."

  "You don't have to –" Sue began. Knowing he wouldn't let her finish, because he could not even contemplate what she would have said.

  "You remember what happened to you today?" He threw a quick smile her way. "Who else is going to keep you out of trouble?" He puffed out his chest in a mockery of macho posturing. "Besides, I'm the dive leader. This kind of danger is what makes me so attractive to the ladies and earns me glory and the big bucks."

  "Well, the first one, at least," said Sue. She blushed as she said it, then blushed more when she saw that Tim was blushing. Another thing about him that was tremendously attractive: he apparently didn't know how good-looking he was. Not in the sense that he had movie star looks or the dimples of a leading man. No, he was attractive in the way that truly good people can be: attractive because he would never hurt you, but would make it his mission to protect you and keep you happy.

  It was a nice moment. Mercedes sat next to them, and the three shared a silence that allowed Sue to hear the lap of the waves and enjoy the thought of Tim watching out for her.

  "Mercedes?" she said. "Did you find anything down there? Really?"

  After the dive, all the divers – except Haeberle, of course, who had refused – had shared their adventures. Had told what happened to them. Mercedes mentioned finding an empty storage chest of some kind, told of running out of air and almost becoming lost in the wreck. But Sue had gotten the feeling that the other woman was holding something back.

  Mercedes didn't answer at first. Just stared into the water. Then, apparently, she decided. She turned to Sue. "I –"

  A thud cut her off. Then the distinctive crack of broken glass.

  A splash.

  Something had been tossed overboard.

  Or someone had fallen off the boat.

  BREAKAGE

  ~^~^~^~^~

  One good thing about what had happened today: it had taken Mercedes' mind off the rest of her life. At least a little. Hard to think of a philandering husband and his slut of a mistress or even your estranged kids when –

  No. Don't think of it. It wasn't real. Couldn't have been real.

  Still, she couldn't help but think of it. Couldn't help but see again the forms she had spotted down there. Not floating. Not swimming. Almost like they were walking toward her. Like they –

  (No. It's not true. Can't be true.)

  – had gone out to play and found her in some underwater hideaway.

  No.

  She tried to hide from her thoughts, tried to take shelter in the obvious interest that Tim and Sue were taking in each other. It would have been cute to watch if it hadn't been in the middle of… all this.

  Then the crash. The smash of glass broken.

  Like Sue and Tim, Mercedes leaped to her feet. Mercedes ran with Sue to the starboard side, while Tim rushed to port.

  "Sounded like something went over!" shouted Tim.

  "I can't see anything!" Mercedes answered.

  "Me either," said Sue.

  A new voice joined theirs: Cal. Sounding confused and maybe a bit sleepy, like he'd been drowsing in the salon when this – whatever it was – happened. "What was that?" he said. "What –"

  His voice was slashed to silence by a near-rabid shout. Mr. Raven's voice, rising to an ugly screech as he screamed, "Who the hell broke this?"

  Mercedes felt herself carried along with Sue, Tim, and Cal back into the salon. Mr. Raven was standing on the stairs that led to the wheelhouse, Haeberle was looking out the portside window. Shattered from the inside. Wind and cool air blew through the empty square.

  "Who did this?" Mr. Raven demanded again.

  "Beats me," said Cal. "I just finished in the head and came out to see Sue."

  Mr. Raven swung a baleful gaze at Mercedes, Sue, and Tim. Mercedes felt like wilting.

  "Don't look at us," said Tim.

  "We were outside," added Sue. "Sounded like something went overboard."

  "Something big," added Mercedes, wishing she hadn't spoken almost immediately after the words left her mouth. The look Mr. Raven levied at her made her feel small, useless. The kind of look that Bill had always used on her.

  "Mark
?" said Mr. Raven, looking at Haeberle. He emphasized the word like it had more meaning than a simple name. And Haeberle bristled like he agreed. And didn't like the meaning it held.

  "I was with you," he said to Mr. Raven. "Not a single damn clue what this is."

  Tim was looking around, scanning each face in turn before saying, "Where's Jimmy J?"

  "Not upstairs," said Mr. Raven.

  "He must be below," added Cal.

  "Why didn't he come up?" asked Tim.

  Mercedes barely heard any of the words. She was staring at the wrecked window, gripped suddenly by an awful thought.

  What if it followed me? What if the things I saw… what if they were real?

  What if they're here?

  CORRUPTION

  ~^~^~^~^~

  Different reasons for looking for Jimmy J. Tim could tell that Mr. Raven had it in his head that the young crewmember had somehow caused the broken window.

  Tim was just worried.

  More than that. Scared.

  He suddenly realized that Jimmy J – normally so gregarious, so outgoing – had disappeared downstairs well before dinner. Not like him at all.

  He had said he was fine… but "fine" was also code for "terrible," depending on who said it and under what circumstances.

  Tim went down the stairs, followed closely by Sue, Mr. Raven, Cal. The others trailed in a caravan behind him. Weird that they would all come on the search for Jimmy J.

  Or maybe not. Maybe they all felt like him. Like something was dreadfully wrong. Even more so than an ocean floor rising, more so than insane fish.

  The berths were in a square room, lined on the sides in rows that allowed ten bunks to be squashed into the tight space. Or it would have ten bunks normally. But in the far corner only the lower bunk hung from the wall. Above it, in the space that bunk ten should have occupied, was a hammock. Jimmy J slept there, saying he preferred it to the cots that were old enough they were mostly springs half-hidden by a thin coating of mattress.