"Besides," he always said, "the hammock makes me feel like a pirate."
But now, looking at it, Tim didn't feel like he was looking at a friend's quirk. The edges of the hammock had drawn in on themselves, covering –
(whatever's in there)
– Jimmy J's form completely.
No, not a pirate hammock. He looked like he had woven a chrysalis around himself. A strange larva unknown and perhaps unknowable.
"Jimmy J?" said Tim. He realized he was standing just inside the door, and realized also that he was frozen in place. "Jimmy J, you okay?"
Mr. Raven got impatient. He shoved past Tim. "Jimmy, did you punch a hole in my ship again?" he said. He walked quickly to the hammock. "If you did, so help me –"
He threw back the closest edge of the hammock.
Tim heard someone gasp behind him. He thought it was Cal. Couldn't tell for sure. Someone else cursed.
Me. It was me.
What the hell happened to him?
Jimmy J was staring straight up. Eyes riveted on the ceiling – or perhaps something beyond. His mouth lay open, so wide it almost dragged against his chest. Drool oozed over the corner of his mouth, creating a shiny track down his cheek, following the line of his jaw, then disappearing behind his neck.
His arm – the arm Tim had noticed him favoring all day – was a mass of weeping pustules. Gross and diseased, the flesh yellowed and translucent in the few areas where skin was visible below the oozing sores.
The rest of him was nothing but black veins, dark scabs. They went all the way to his chin, even following the curve of his neck so they were just below his face.
Corruption.
A perversion of flesh.
And obviously dead.
"What could have done that?" Sue.
Mr. Raven snorted. "More important, why would he want to break a window in my boat?"
Tim's mouth fell open nearly as far as Jimmy J's. He shot a glare at Mr. Raven.
But Mr. Raven didn't notice. Or didn't appear to.
And then Mercedes screamed.
GONE
~^~^~^~^~
Cal had hated every single moment of this damn trip.
Bad enough that he was revisiting the place his daughter had died. Now this. Oceans shifting, bodies literally piling up, and worst of all it seemed that being here was having exactly the opposite effect he had hoped it would have.
He and Sue had drifted apart over the years, he knew. And he knew that was his fault, at least in part. He had married again when Sue was in her teens, and that had turned out to be a nightmare. No wicked stepmother in a Disney movie could have been more cruel to the girls than she was. And not only had he not seen it, he hadn't believed it when Sue came to him. Had told her she was wrong, that she was trying to break him and Shallyn apart, that she would never get her real mother back so stop acting like a baby.
He saw it eventually, of course. Saw how she snapped at the girls when she thought he wasn't looking, noticed that she never wanted to do anything as a family.
But it was too late. By then Sue had decided he was as much to blame for her situation as Shallyn was. And she was probably right.
She moved out the day after she graduated from high school. Asked him to cosign a lease for her, but after that he didn't hear from her for more than a year. Debi kept in contact with her, of course – they had always been friends – but other than second-hand reports he might as well have only had one daughter.
Then he got Debi the job. He knew the head of Nelson Chem – he'd represented Deanna Nelson and Nelson Chemical itself in dozens of litigations and administrative hearings with the EPA over the years. He knew all Nelson's dealings, all their projects, all their dirty laundry.
So when he asked Deanna to take a look at Debi's resume she didn't hesitate.
And, of course, that just made things worse for him and Sue. Both his girls had taken to diving like they were born to it, but where Debi viewed it as an adventure and – eventually – as a skill that made her uniquely valuable to Nelson Chemical – Sue seemed to think diving was almost… sacred. Time in the waves was her sacrament, the water her church.
Nelson Chemical, with its close relation with "evil polluters" and companies that regularly showed up on Greenpeace's "Worst Of" lists, was an abomination. And so of course Debi's working with them was immediately an act of evil the magnitude of the Nazi invasion of Poland… and was one more huge black mark against Cal.
And if she knew what Nelson Chem was really doing?
He thought of that often. Thought of telling her. And just as quickly realized that would be a permanent end to their relationship.
Still, with every move she made to distance herself from him, he tried to respect her. Tried not to give any indication he resented Sue's choices or blamed her for their estrangement. But he still loved her. He sent letters asking for forgiveness and got back only curt notes with "Thank you" or "Hope you are well" – often scrawled on the backs of the very letters he had written.
It wasn't until Debi was lost that she actually let him in. Because she wanted to go to the area where she had disappeared. Wanted to look for herself.
And didn't have the money to do it.
He was glad to pay. Not because he thought Debi was alive, not because he thought the trip was a good idea – he thought it was terrible, thought it was just going to prevent any possibility of closure – but because it was a chance. A possible reconciliation.
And it had seemed to work, a little. She had talked to him more on this trip than she had in the entire time since she left home. Had shared – almost shared – a drink with him.
She hadn't treated him like a father. But she had treated him like he was human. That was a start.
But now… all this. Not just the strangeness of the ocean itself, but the more tangible presence of corpses, the danger of deep diving. And Jimmy J.
What's wrong with him? What could do this to a person?
Cal wasn't a doctor, but he was reasonably well-read. And he'd never seen or heard of anything like whatever it was the young man was afflicted with. From the looks on the faces around him, no one else had any clue what had happened, either.
Then Mercedes screamed.
He was closer to her than anyone else. Whipped around and saw her staring into the storage area where they had stacked the bodies of Geoffrey and the Nelson Chem employee.
What now?
He took the four or five steps to her in one single lunge.
Stared.
Blinked.
Stared.
"It was open," Mercedes said. Her voice came out choked, strained. "Just a little, but I peeked in, I don't know why, I just did, I…." Her voice finally pinched away to nothing.
And easy to see why: the bodies were gone. The tarp that had covered them lay on the floor, crumpled into a twisted mass as though it had been tossed aside hurriedly, as though someone hadn't been able to wait for a chance to cast their eyes on the grisly scene below.
"Where'd they go?" said Haeberle. Another huge problem with this dive. Cal had seen the way he looked at Sue, and Mercedes, too. Like they were something he wanted to own.
Not own. Something worse. Like he's a malicious boy with a fragile toy. Like he wants to break them.
"All right," said Mr. Raven as he joined them in the doorway. "Which one of you is doing this? Do you think this is funny?"
"No one is laughing, Mr. Raven," said Tim. He, at least, was one of the bright spots of the dive. Sue clearly liked him, and Cal could tell the feeling was mutual. From what he could tell, Tim was a good guy, warm and kind. The sort of person who would be good for his daughter.
Cal looked closer at the mussed tarp. It seemed to shine in light of the single bulb that illuminated the galley storage room. And when he noticed that he saw something else he'd missed in the shock of seeing that the bodies had disappeared.
Streaks. Smears of some dark, oily substance that seemed to ripple in the light
. It was all over the floor, all over the tarp.
Cal leaned in to look at it.
"Don't touch it," said Sue. He felt a thrill of happiness at that. It was the first time she had shown a real interest in him, shown that his wellbeing was something that mattered.
He smiled at her. "Not about to." But he leaned in a bit closer. Sniffed.
"What does it smell like?" said Mr. Raven.
Cal shrugged. "Like everything else on the boat: the sea."
But there was something under that smell. Something he couldn't identify. Something he suspected he'd never smelled before. But at the same time it was familiar on a deep level, the place where we stop being human and start being wild creatures. Where we divide everything into good and bad, safety or danger.
This smell said danger. Said it loud.
BLAME
~^~^~^~^~
Sue watched Tim and her father move Jimmy J's body – still wrapped in the hammock – to the galley storage. No one wanted to put him in there, but there was no better space.
She noted how both men avoided those black streaks.
What are they?
One more question without answer. One more thing that seemed likely only to cause difficulty, danger.
Pain.
When the body had been lowered, Sue's father stood and cracked his back. Tim didn't stand. He lowered himself to a crate near the body and simply sat there, bowed down and looking wrecked.
"Pity," said Mr. Raven. "He was a good diver. Cheap, too." Then he left. So did Mercedes, Haeberle (small blessing, that), and Sue's father.
Sue waited a moment. She didn't want to interrupt Tim, but she also didn't want him to suffer alone. Some people crawl into holes when they are in pain, but only half of them do it so they can be alone. The others are hoping to be rescued. Praying for contact that will bring them a bit closer to the light.
She didn't know which kind of grieving Tim was doing. But hoped she could help.
"You okay?" she finally said.
"Not even close." He was silent for a long time. But he didn't tell her to leave, so she didn't go. "He got this job because of me," he said after another minute. "Went on a day-dive, one of those trips rich ladies buy as birthday presents for their grandkids." He chuckled, a gasping laugh that sounded like it was fighting with tears. "Didn't know jack about diving, but he fell in love with it. Got certified, worked hard. Ended up right back here with me." Another one of those gasping laughs. "Bet he wishes he'd stayed away."
"You can't blame yourself," said Sue.
"Like you don't blame yourself for your sister?"
That hurt. Sue knew she was carrying around blame for what had happened to Debi. Like if she'd stayed closer she could have kept her away from whatever happened to her. Like she could have made a difference.
Most people hurry to take blame for things they cannot control. Sue was no different. And knowing that Debi had taken her own path, made her own choices – it just didn't matter. On some basic level Sue was convinced that her sister's death was her fault.
And having Tim say it – even speaking from a place of reckless grief – was a slap to her face. It was irrational, it was ridiculous, but hearing her mad quest put into such plain, simple terms… it enraged her. Not because she was angry at him, but because she was angry at herself. So, like all good members of the family hominidae, she lashed out.
"I'll leave you alone," she said.
And she did.
FIGHT
~^~^~^~^~
The day was gone, and the lights were on in the salon when Tim finally came up from his vigil over Jimmy J.
The lights in the salon were dimmer than he remembered. He wondered if that meant that something in the wiring had fizzled at the same time the engine crapped out.
Great.
The rest of the guests were in the salon. Haeberle sat alone in a corner, looking unabashedly at a Playboy, grunting in satisfaction or pleasure as he turned the pages. Not even trying to pretend he was reading the articles.
Mercedes stared out the broken window. She scratched absently at her hand. Back and forth, back and forth, like she was doing a yoga move, some kind of ritualistic repetition that might bring a measure of order and calm to the situation.
Sue and Cal sat at the dinner table, each holding a beer. They sat slightly apart, as though unwilling to be too close, but there was something pleasing about seeing them together.
Tim sat with them. Next to Sue.
"Sorry," he said.
"Don't worry about it," she answered. He believed she meant it.
"You don't have another one of those, do you?" he said, gesturing at the beers.
Sue reached under the table. Brought out a beer. Handed it to him. "Nice and warm," she said.
"Fridge isn't much good at the moment," added Cal.
They drank as one. Like a silent toast for Jimmy J.
"Two more days to go," said Sue. She sipped at her drink again, then said, "At least we won't be bored."
It took a moment for Tim to understand what she was saying. When he did, he couldn't help but answer in something approaching a yell. "You're not seriously going back down?"
"I still haven't found what I came for," she said.
Tim's world was spinning. How could she possibly…? "Are you shitting me?" he said. "Three dead bodies, two of which disappear, and two of them dying of God-only-knows-what, and you want to dive tomorrow? Forget the fact that it's insane, how about just plain disrespectful?"
He looked around the room, searching for some support from the others. Haeberle was the first to meet his gaze, and his grin said clearly that he intended to go down again. Mercedes just scratched her hand and looked away: the affirmative of someone who wanted as little confrontation as possible.
Tim shook his head. "No way. I won't let you guys go."
Haeberle's grin disappeared. He stood and moved to the table. Towering over Tim. He would have towered even if Tim had been standing, but with Tim seated he completely loomed, like a skyscraper next to a cottage.
"How you plan on stopping me, Timmy?"
Tim didn't back down. He rose to his feet. Coming almost to Haeberle's clavicle.
"However I have to, you idiot. If it means I have to break your legs to save your life, then fine – uff."
The air exploded from Tim's lungs as Haeberle rammed into him. No warning, just a quick lunge, a body check that sent Tim painfully into the table. He heard Sue and Cal both scream in chorus. He felt hands between him and Haeberle. Figured it must be Cal trying to stop the fight.
A fist slammed into the side of his head. Tim saw stars, but managed to slam his own fist into Haeberle's midsection. Not a tremendously hard punch – his angle was bad for that – but he must have tagged Haeberle's liver, because the big man gagged. Still, he didn't stop. He punched Tim again. Another blow to the temple. This time he didn't see stars, he saw darkness. Not unconscious, but someone had coated his eyeballs with thick black paint.
He thought for a moment of the black sludge where the bodies had been. Thought crazily that this was what he was seeing now. That he had contracted a case of whatever had carried the bodies away.
No. Doesn't make sense. Get back to the fight. Get back –
Another hit rocked him. He felt his grasp on consciousness slipping. Only dark and his breathing like torn cloth and the siren –
Siren?
He felt the weight come off him. His sight slowly returned – black and white at first, then color bleeding into everything.
The siren kept sounding.
Mr. Raven stood in the narrow stairway that led to the wheelhouse, holding a megaphone above his head. Pressing a button so hard his thumb was white. The siren came from the speaker, a loud wha-wha-wha that shifted to a higher tone, then went back to the original siren.
When he was satisfied that no one was going to keep fighting, Mr. Raven lowered the megaphone. The siren clipped off. "What is the meaning of this, children?" h
e asked.
Haeberle, still holding Tim's shirt with one massive hand, said, "This asshole thinks he can stop us from diving."
Tim managed to pick himself up off the table. Threw Haeberle's hand aside. Tried to, at least; the guy didn't let go but kept his hand knotted in Tim's shirt. "And this asshole thinks –"
Mr. Raven put the megaphone to his lips. "Never mind," he said through it, the words deafening in the small space. "I'm sorry I asked." He lowered the megaphone again, then looked around the room. "You know, I think Tim is right. No dives tomorrow."
Sue and Mercedes started to protest. Haeberle said nothing, just stood quietly, which Tim thought strange. The big man had been ready to pound him into a soggy blot on the table, but when Mr. Raven spoke, he acquiesced.
What's up between those two?
Mr. Raven raised a hand to cut off the protestations of the two women. "Now, now, we can come back again as soon as we put into port and fix The Celeste. I'll even foot the bill for the return trip." He smiled, and Tim got the impression he was trying for "sincere." He only managed "weaselly" and Tim thought for perhaps the thousandth time that Mr. Raven might not actually be human – just something pretending to be. Something all about the moment, the buck he could make, the convenience or inconvenience that things brought him.
"It's the least I can do after all that's happened," said Mr. Raven.
The lights flickered. Went out. No one moved. Mr. Raven was a black smudge in the darkness. "No diving in conditions like this. Agreed?"
No one contradicted him. "Fantastic. Someone's finally making sense," said Tim.
"Sure," Haeberle added. "Sure thing, Mr. Raven."
He finally let go of Tim. Moved belowdecks.
Mr. Raven left, too. And Tim once again wondered what – if anything – was going on between them.
Wondered… and, for the first time, feared.
DOC
The Deep 2015.06.23 Page 18
