Dead Asleep

by Jamie Freveletti

  “It could be a large sea creature. That, I could believe, or some sort of phenomenon. The ocean is just so vast that I don’t think we’ve learned everything there is to know.”

  Carrow seemed to consider Oz’s answer. “But attacking a boat and pulling it down? I mean, how much strength does it take to yank a several ton cruiser underwater?”

  “A lot,” Oz said.

  “I just can’t imagine it happening. However, if it does . . .” Carrow pointed to the gun case. “Shoot the bastard.”

  “That’s Emma’s job,” Oz said.

  “Have no fear,” Emma said. “A large tentacle curls out of the ocean at me and I’ll empty an entire clip into it if I have to.” Carrow laughed.

  “Deal.” He held up his energy drink can and Oz tapped it with the neck of his bottle.

  The ocean became bluer and more illuminated with every passing moment. Emma watched the churning wake and calculated the amount of product she’d need for her tests. She figured if she could get enough to fill ten gallon-sized hefty bags she could use one to run some initial tests at Terra Cay and send the rest to Miami. They traveled a bit more, and then Carrow cut the engines. The ensuing silence was welcome. The boat bobbed on the waves. Emma leaned over the side and scanned the water directly below them.

  “Searching for a monster?” Carrow said with a smile.

  “Actually, a shark,” she replied.

  Carrow groaned. “Thanks for that lovely thought.”

  “Statistically the shark is not very likely,” Oz said. “You’re thirty times more likely to get hit by lightning.”

  Carrow downed the rest of his drink and tossed the can into a garbage bag.

  “That’s what I like to hear,” he said. “Death by shark versus death by lightning.” He gazed around all sides of the boat. “Marwell was right, it’s beautiful here. Can you see any of the caves?”

  “No. Blue as it is, it’s still too dark down there. Let’s suit up?”

  Twenty minutes later Emma and Carrow were ready. They’d lowered the anchor, attached a weight to the yellow ascent line and dropped it into the water. Her equipment was excellent, Marwell had given them the best, and she had a small yellow tank as a spare, an octopus regulator should something go wrong, and they had to share a tank and a safety sausage in case they drifted and Oz needed to see them at a distance. Carrow finished preparing and came over to assist her.

  “We’ve got to do this in forty minutes and then ascend. We’ll do a safety stop at about fifteen feet, okay?” he said.

  “Sounds good.” Emma checked her collection supplies and strapped on a wrist compass. She checked Carrow’s wrists. “No compass?”

  He reached down to a belt and showed her a compass attached to a lanyard on his dive belt. “I prefer this one.” He looked at Oz. “We have safety sausages and I have this whistle as well.” Carrow showed Oz a plastic whistle that also attached to him by a lanyard. “I don’t expect us to drift too far out, but one never knows. I’ll blow this first and only activate the sausage as a secondary measure.”

  “You’ll yank on the rope when you’re there?” Oz said to Emma.

  “I will.”

  “Ready?” Carrow said.

  Emma nodded. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter 22

  Kemmer steered the boat toward the blue holes. It had taken him two eighteen-hour days to get the boat outfitted and provisioned for the trip from St. Martin. An hour before he was to launch a man stepped onto the deck. About forty, with a wicked slash on his jawline, a head with hair trimmed in a close buzz and a rolling bag behind him, the man identified himself as “Joseph.”

  “I’m sent by your new partner,” he’d said. “Do you have the guns on board?”

  Kemmer had shown him the stash of high-powered sniper rifles, one with a bayonet attached, in a bag. “Good.” That was the last thing Joseph had said since the beginning of the trip.

  Kemmer distrusted everything about the man. His instincts flared whenever Joseph’s beady dark eyes fell on him. Kemmer piloted the boat and did his best to stay quiet. The Vulture had made it quite clear that he expected only Kemmer and this man on the trip to the blue holes. Kemmer wondered what Joseph intended to do once they got there. If he was a diver he’d be disappointed. Kemmer hadn’t brought any dive equipment on board, and it was clear that the roller bag was far too small to contain any. Finally, as they neared the site, Kemmer’s anxiety got the better of him. He needed to know what Joseph intended to do.

  “Are you planning on taking water samples at the site? Photos?” Kemmer said. A camera and a collection test tube were the only two things he thought would fit in the bag. Joseph turned his head and looked at Kemmer.

  “No,” he said.

  “The locals think a sea monster lives there. Do you hope to catch a video or photo of it?”

  Joseph gave Kemmer a look filled with derision. “Do I look like an ignorant local?”

  “Not at all.” Kemmer wanted to kick himself for even starting the conversation. Conversing with this man was a mistake. Still, he couldn’t help himself.

  “What’s in the bag, then?”

  “A gun,” Joseph said.

  “More? I didn’t bring enough?”

  “You didn’t bring mine. I only fire that one.”

  “And the others? The ones that I was ordered to bring? What are they for?”

  “For the others.”

  “What others?”

  “The ones waiting at Terra Cay. That’s where we’re going after this.”

  That was news to Kemmer. He shoved aside his irritation at the fact that he hadn’t been told about any others or that they were going to use his guns.

  “Terra Cay won’t allow us to use their dock with guns on board,” he said.

  “We’re not going to use their dock. We’re going to approach from the mangrove side.” Joseph kept his eyes on the ocean ahead of them.

  Kemmer did his best to keep his temper in check. Landing at Terra Cay from the mangrove side was dangerous. The water became shallow, and sharp coral outcroppings made for a difficult approach.

  “That’s a tough approach. Lots of rocks just below the water’s surface.”

  Joseph shrugged. “I’ll take my chances,” he said.

  Kemmer couldn’t help but notice that Joseph seemed to think that he was the only one taking a chance on mooring at Terra Cay. Clearly the man thought he would do exactly as he was told; a fact that was true but still irked Kemmer. He returned his attention to piloting the boat, watching the gauges and keeping an eye on the compass. He’d be happy when the trip was completed.

  “Are we in the Bermuda Triangle?” Joseph asked.

  Kemmer nodded. “We are. The blue holes are located there.”

  “You been in the Triangle before?”

  “Many times. Never a problem. The disappearances were pilot error, nothing more.”

  Joseph nodded, appearing content with the answer.

  Kemmer didn’t comment on the disappearances due to crime. He just hoped he wouldn’t become one.

  Chapter 23

  Emma jumped into the ocean after Carrow, who had already submerged. The clear, sparkling water was effervescent below the surface for several feet as she swam after Carrow slowly, taking care to descend in a leisurely fashion. A school of small neon-colored fish swam to and fro in front of her, moving in unison with rapid precision. A large slow-moving fish passed to her left. Its round eye seemed to look at her, then away.

  She kept her breathing regular and calm. The biggest issue for her underwater was always the tendency to panic as she passed the fifteen meter mark. Her instructor had suggested that it might be nitrogen narcosis, a common condition that usually manifested at lower depths but could occur at any time. Every diver experienced it to some extent at depths below thirty meters, but the level and intensity changed for each person and each dive, and there was no way to train one’s body to avoid it. The inevitability and unpredictability of
nitrogen narcosis was what made it so dangerous.

  The general symptoms for a diver were feelings of happiness or dread, decreased judgment, panic, the inability to remember the steps required to dive, and eventual unconsciousness and death. Divers had been known to think they could breathe underwater and take the regulators out of their mouths. In previous episodes, Emma’s mild panic at depth had led to rapid breathing that depleted her tank quicker than it should have, but over the last three years she’d learned to expect the panic and force herself to continue to breathe slowly until it passed.

  The sea darkened as they descended, and then the top of an arch came into view. Emma’s depth perception was off, because the arch opening at first seemed as wide as ten feet but then appeared to narrow to three feet. She blinked, trying to discern if it was the angle of approach that made the arch move or if she was actually suffering from narcosis and experiencing the tunnel vision that was another marker of the condition. She focused on keeping her breathing even and slow, and her fins moving in a rhythmic, relaxing progression. After a few more feet of descent she saw the darker, round opening of the first blue hole. It lay directly at the base of the arch, about twenty feet farther below.

  A shape attached to the left outer portion of the arch came into view. It was part of a boat’s windshield hanging from the side of the arch. It seemed the windshield had snagged on a spiky section. Several small, bullet-sized holes pocked the glass, and the rest had shattered in a crazy pattern. Carrow reached the arch first and she saw him peer at the windshield. He ran his hand along the top of the arch before he continued down, toward the blue hole.

  Emma approached the arch and also ran her hand along it. It was at least ten feet wide, and she realized that her perception of motion had come from the combination of the current that ran through it and the fact that a portion was broken off. It appeared to have been hacked at with an ax. She saw from the closest section that the sparkling blue mineral compound was only present in the first quarter inch of the arch. The rest appeared to be nothing more than a shell-like substance. From what she could see, there were only a few bits of the unique mineral left, and certainly not enough to supply an ingredient for a major cosmetic company’s product.

  She grabbed her tools and began scraping across the top, collecting pieces for later analysis. Perhaps the compound could be re-created in the lab in larger quantities. After filling a quart-sized bag she returned the tools to her belt.

  She’d kept an eye on both her watch and her compass while diving, and now descended to the blue hole’s entrance. Carrow was already there, staring to his right. Emma looked that way and her heart clutched. Slumped next to the opening was the body of a diver. It wore a black wet suit that ended at its ankles. The feet had been gnawed away, probably by fish, and the mask swayed in the water’s current because no face anchored it. It, too, had been eaten. Emma couldn’t see any evidence of the diver’s oxygen tanks, but the remains of a regulator were clutched in the diver’s right hand. Most of the flesh was gone but enough remained to see that the diver had been male.

  Emma swallowed. She wondered if the shattered windshield and the dead diver were related. Perhaps an explosion caused the windshield to shatter and rip off from the boat? If so, she wondered what type of explosion. She glanced around, looking for any indication that the rest of the boat had followed the windshield down, but the area was clear. She knew they were actually on a promontory under the water. Maps of the area indicated that it extended over five hundred yards in all directions and then sloped downward, presumably all the way to the sea bottom. Too low for anyone to dive and low enough to swallow up the hull and remaining pieces of the shattered boat, if there were any.

  She moved away from the body and back to the blue hole’s entrance, put her hands on the edge and peered in. Carrow joined her. He stayed crouched at her right side as she collected more of the mineral. After six minutes on her watch, he floated up a bit, hovering over her head and looking around. He swam in a small circle above her. She thought he was marking time until she could complete the collection. Seven minutes later she was done. She put her tools away, attached the collection bag to her, and looked around for Carrow.

  He was gone.

  She experienced a moment of sheer panic. That he’d been floating above her one minute and gone the next sent her anxiety flying. She moved upward, forcing herself to swim in the same leisurely pace she’d used on descent. As she passed the midpoint of the arch’s opening she spotted Carrow fifteen feet to her right, swimming away from her.

  She checked her watch. They had five minutes left to explore and then would have to begin their ascent. She followed him through arch, but kicking fast, trying to catch up and warn him about the time. It wasn’t until she was through the opening that she realized it was actually a tunnel, leading downward. Carrow was descending into it.

  She caught up with him and lightly touched his leg. He stopped descending and she made the signal to ascend. He nodded but turned back into the tunnel. She touched him again, shook her head no and pointed back, out of the tunnel. He pointed downward. Again she signaled no. He made the sign for ascent and pointed downward.

  Emma realized that he’d gotten disoriented. He believed that descending into the tunnel was ascending. She shook her head more vigorously, pointing upward. Carrow reached to his compass and held it in front of her, showing her its face.

  The compass reading confirmed that they were to head farther into the tunnel if they were to ascend. Emma’s entire being rebelled at the idea that the direction he pointed was correct, yet the compass verified what Carrow thought. She checked her own compass, but it appeared to be broken. She shook it, hoping to get it to function again, but it remained dark.

  He watched her through his mask with a patient look on his face. Emma remembered Marwell’s comment that Carrow was an experienced diver, and his calm in the face of her misunderstanding confirmed this fact, but she still believed that to continue to descend through the arch tunnel meant that they’d eventually use up all their air. Once they realized their mistake, they wouldn’t have enough to complete an ascent. They’d die.

  Emma’s life had once been irrevocably altered by the lack of a compass. She’d been downed in a jungle and lost hers in the ensuing plane crash. Since that day she never traveled without one, and her belief in them as a lifesaving tool was unshakable. Yet now she struggled with the idea that Carrow’s compass was wrong.

  She grabbed him by the arm and shook her head no. Carrow’s eyes first registered surprise, then concern. She saw him grapple with how to convince her that the direction she thought was the correct one was wrong. He shook his head very slowly, showed her the compass, pointed down the tunnel and began to swim in that direction.

  Emma felt the low level panic she’d been working to control surge to the forefront. She swallowed in fear. If she followed, she would have to commit to the direction for as long as it took. She decided that her confusion must stem from nitrogen narcosis and so forced herself to go after him. She couldn’t shake her belief that the compass was wrong, but the idea that a compass was broken in a way that showed the wrong direction entirely didn’t seem likely. Either Carrow’s compass was correct or there had to be another explanation. She followed with a feeling of overwhelming dread that they were going in the exact wrong direction.

  Meanwhile, everything she knew about compasses ran through her mind. That they pointed magnetic north, for instance, not true north. Depending on where one was on the Earth, true north could be as much as twenty degrees east or west. While the deviation was small, over time and distance it could result in navigational mistakes of several thousand feet.

  They were technically within the area that would include a tip of the Bermuda Triangle, and some claimed that a narrow band of the Triangle was one of the two places on earth where true north and magnetic north aligned, the other being the North Pole. In that case, there would be no deviation between the two readings. None of th
ese facts, though, explained why the compass appeared to be sending them off course.

  Emma glanced at her watch. In ten seconds they would have been swimming for five minutes. She had to make a decision to either try to convince Carrow one more time that the compass was wrong or follow him into what every instinct told her was the deep. She swam even with his shoulder and moved slightly ahead.

  The tunnel opened into a large, cavelike area. Stalactites and stalagmites pointed above and below them. The walls were jagged with dents and divots, and large pieces of the stalactites that broke off had fallen to the base of the cave. She saw three more bodies, their corpses in various stages of decomposition. All looked to be male. One had a collection bag gripped in his hand, and an ax lay next to the other. The cave provided proof that they had gone in the wrong direction, because they hadn’t passed through it on descent.

  Carrow turned to look at her and she saw the horror in his eyes. He grabbed at his compass and Emma reached for hers. The reading had reverted and now it confirmed that they had gone the wrong way. Carrow swung his hand up to show her the compass face. As he did, black liquid erupted from an opening at the far wall of the cave. It billowed outward, like the ink shot from an octopus. The current shifted, and Emma felt a riptide punch her in the chest and drag her back toward the tunnel’s opening. She reached for Carrow’s arm and held on tight as the vacuum pulled them upward, back the way they had come, but three times as fast as they’d descended. She tumbled in the water, hitting the tunnel’s sides. Carrow slammed into her and then bounced back against the tunnel’s wall and his arm yanked from her grip. His spare oxygen tank dislodged and hit her in the face before spinning away.

  Emma tried to slow her ascent by grabbing at the smooth walls around her. She embedded her nails in it and felt the tips break one by one. Pain shot through her fingers and she felt a nail rip deeply into the cuticle.