by David Cline
90 percent of sunlight only penetrates water to a depth of about 33 feet. The blackness below him looked ominous and foreboding. He looked south and saw the shelf glittering a few hundred yards away.
When they had maneuvered the raft over the shelf again, they dropped anchor. Wilkins scanned the horizon with the binoculars one last time before strapping the scuba gear on his back. “We are good to go,” he said. “Not a single vessel in sight.”
They grabbed the metal detectors and began a slow descent toward the bottom. The cold water was a welcome change from the furnace above. When they reached the halfway point, Wilkins tapped Wood on the leg and pointed ahead. About 100 yards away, the seafloor looked like it had been recently disturbed. The smooth sea bottom abruptly dropped a few feet. Strange shapes protruded from the shadows and glittered in the faint light.
Wood kicked his fins and swam forward. As he approached, he noticed the seafloor abruptly dropped eight feet in the shape of a crude rectangle. Wood had worked enough in the ocean to recognize the signs of a dredger.
Sometimes after a hurricane thundered through the Caribbean, Wood and Wilkins would travel there in hopes of discovering some of the 80 billion dollars’ worth of treasure that historians estimated was still buried beneath the world’s oceans. When a hurricane passes through, millions of tons of ocean sediment shifts around, sometimes exposing ancient shipwrecks. During their most recent trip, they had chartered a 28-foot boat with twin 212 horsepower jet engines. Using a four-point anchor system, they had pointed the jets downward and cleared 10 feet of sand. They had not found anything, but the asymmetrical hole they had created looked strangely like the one Wood now swam toward.
Over the lip of the hole, a pile of circular forms was heaped together like a mass grave. They were all encased in a dark coral that resembled cauliflower. Wood reached out and touched the abrasive surface. Wilkins appeared next to him and together they freed one and lifted it over the edge and onto the sand nearby.
Wilkins eyes widened when he got a good look at what it was. Two large circles, approximately six feet apart, were connected in the middle by a tubular shaft. Wood noticed that each circle contained six struts evenly spaced apart. The wood had long since disintegrated, but the coral had remained, preserving the original shape. There was no question that the circles had at one time been wheels. The coral outline looked like it had once belonged to a chariot.
Wood swam back to the pit and began to sift through the pile of strewn formations. Together they carefully began placing each object softly on the seafloor. They were about to lift another item when Wilkins stopped and pointed down. Wood rose a few feet and looked through the labyrinth of corals. Through a narrow gap, he thought he could distinguish a metallic glimmer.
They quickly removed two more coral encrusted objects. Air bubbles continually erupted from Wood’s regulator. The excitement and exertion had elevated his heartrate. He paused to regain some composure, focusing on slowing his breathing. He was checking his oxygen levels when Wilkins made an eager series of hand motions. Wood swam over and peered down.
Half buried in the sand was a golden chariot wheel. This one had four evenly spaced spokes in the shape of a cross. The center rose a few inches toward them where a wooden bar would have connected it to its opposite side. A hole with a 1-inch diameter bore through the middle. Wood swam down and cleared the debris that had collected inside over the last few millennia.
Wilkins got a hand under the wheel and pried it free unleashing a cloud of silt. As he swam to deposit the golden wheel with their growing pile of artifacts, Wood noticed it was hollow in the middle. The Egyptians must have plated the outside of the wheels with gold in order to distinguish the rider. After years in the salty sea, the wood inside had decayed leaving only the golden shell behind.
Wood felt his entire body shiver as he tried to grasp the significance of their discovery. He thought back to their conversation about physical evidence of the bible. The location fit. The artifacts fit. Even the narrow shelf traversing the seafloor with deep chasms on either side challenged the laws of chance. Wood racked his brain for any other rational explanation for what they had found. It could be a hoax, though. He held his hands out in front of his mask. Small cuts zigzagged across the skin where the coral had cut it.
Coral took many years to grow. Were they really digging through the remains of the drowned Egyptian army that pursued the children of Israel across the desert? Was the bible literal, and not just a collection of folk tales that were passed down for the ages?
Wood absently watched the air bubbles exit his regulator as his mind meandered. They rose lazily toward the surface. He stared hypnotized for a minute, and then looked down at the oxygen gauge. They did not have a lot of time. With a few hard kicks, he returned his attention to the extraordinary assortment of artifacts still littered across the bottom of the pit.
He descended to where Wilkins had removed the wheel and began to clear the sand away. A couple more inches down, the sand was replaced with a kind of clay. His fingernail snagged on something hard. Careful not to cut himself, Wood cleared the area around it. A burst of bubbles erupted from his regulator when the haunting shape of a skull appeared. The naval bone and eye sockets were full of dark muck.
How could a skeleton have survived so long? He examined the clay material that had encased the skeleton. Thousands of years ago, the topsoil would have moved drastically, if the water had been parted and then clapped back together. It was possible during all the commotion a body could have been buried inside the clay and preserved.
Wood worked horizontally removing more sediment. He saw the skull was still connected to the first cervical vertebrae. Soon, it appeared the entire skeleton had been preserved. As he cleared the area above the sternum, a metal object caught his eye. Careful not to damage the fragile skeleton, Wood removed a large golden necklace. It was at least four inches thick in the middle. Diamonds and pearls had been weaved throughout the design. In the front, the bottom drooped and held a large turquoise stone. Ancient characters were etched on top.
Wood’s hands trembled as he rotated the exquisite piece, examining it closely. He tried to recall some of the information he had read about Egyptian culture. Both men and women had adorned themselves in jewelry. They believed gold was the very flesh of the gods, the fire, and the sun. Because it never lost its luster, it gave them an eternal sense of being. Collar necklaces like the one he held, had only been worn by royalty and the elite of society. He looked back at the skull and tried to venture a guess at which high office he once held amongst the Egyptians. Did the skeleton belong to Pharaoh himself?
Wood secured the necklace into a pocket and began to clear more debris when Wilkins appeared above him. Wood knew something was wrong by the alarm in Wilkin’s eyes. He made a frantic series of hand gestures. Wood spun around and looked up toward the surface. The large shadow of a boat now floated ominously where their raft had been. Its dark outline looked menacing contrasted against the bright orange sky above.
Before either one could communicate a plan, there was a splash and a round object began a quick descent to the sea bottom. Wood rubbed his mask to help clear some of the fog. The object was about the size of a basketball. In the middle a red light blinked.
Realization hit them at the exact same moment. Wood reeled around and raced toward the opposite edge of the shelf. His legs burned as he closed the distance. An ugly school of fish with red lips and a hornlike rostrum jutting out between their eyes scattered before them. Wood clenched his teeth around the regulator and willed his legs to keep churning.
With a powerful breaststroke, Wood propelled himself over the edge of the shelf right as his ears seemed to implode. He tucked into a ball like a big wave surfer and clenched his eyes shut. His chest contracted and for a few moments he could not breathe. His sense of balance went haywire. A jet of water roared above him as the explosion detonated. Had they been directly under their raft, they would have been toast.
Wood clutched his chest. The regulator had somehow remained inside of his mouth. His body descended downward with his face toward the surface as though he had been hit with a stunning spell unable to move. The evening sky looked so peaceful above him. Some of the ugly fish appeared over the edge, floating upside down. Wood’s vision fogged.
A pair of strong arms grasped Wood around the shoulders and halted his descent. Wood realized he must be breathing, or he would have long since went unconscious. His chest was clenched so tight, only tiny sporadic bits of air entered his lungs with each weak breath. He allowed himself to be guided upward. They went slow to ensure the pressure inside their ears could equalize.
When his face finally broke the surface, Wood let out a joyful sigh. It was like taking the first sip of a cold beverage on a scorching day. He ripped off the mask and flipped onto his back. The water was still choppy, but at least his lungs were open again.
“Thought we were done for,” Wilkins wheezed. His voice sounded like he was a longtime smoker. He grimaced as he adjusted his jaw and shook his head sideways. “My ears are still messed up. Why are we always underwater during explosions?”
“We’re not out the woods yet,” Wood said. A medium sized motorboat was headed in their direction. The outside was painted white, the middle cut through with a single blue stripe. The bow was pointed toward them, but the angle was slightly off. “I think we are still far enough away. These swells have kept us concealed for the moment.”
“Probably want to ensure that we’re not going to cause them anymore problems,” Wilkins said. “If they’ve figured out it’s been the same two people that have caused them so much grief the last few weeks, it’s no wonder they are allocating so many resources to remove us from the picture. You think they have scuba gear?”
“I doubt it,” Wood answered. “That boat looks like it was rented at the last minute. You see the yellow tag with the name of the rental company on it on the starboard side? They probably scrambled to find one when they spotted us on the raft.”
Wilkins gave him a devious smile. “We’re sitting ducks out here unless we do something fast. I think I have a plan. How much oxygen do you have left?”
Wood looked down at the gage. “No more than five minutes.”
“That’ll do.”
They waited low in the water until the boat neared. With a nod, Wood tightened the goggles around his head, and submerged underwater. His ears protested the water pressure as he descended a few feet. Wilkins was already far ahead making his way toward the boat. His slow powerful movements reminded Wood of the great sea turtles that graced tropical waters. Because the surface of the sea was so choppy, Wood was confident they would remain unseen, even if they were within arm’s reach just beneath the surface.
Only a few hundred feet ahead of them, the boat slowed and then the driver killed the engine. The jet of whitewater beneath the hull disappeared as the propeller came to a halt. Wood felt a little strange as they drew near. From below, the boat looked like a beautiful living creature. Its symmetry and shape contrasted the bright colors above. He felt like a shark, as it stalked a surfer oblivious to its dangerous presence.
Wilkins stopped a few feet beneath the stern and waited for Wood to arrive. The propeller had four cupped blades. Its discoloring metal revealed a little about its age. A large chip was missing from one of the blades probably due to a collision with a rock. A narrow piece of metal jutted out beneath the propeller where the rudder was mounted. Its crusted shape looked like a flag frozen in ice. Wilkins removed a tool from his pack he always carried when he dove and disconnected the bracket that held the rudder in place.
Wood could only speculate what the people in the boat only a few feet above them were doing. Probably drinking beers waiting to see a body surface. The hair on his arms stood on end and Wood spun around to ensure they were still alone. It was always the things unseen which spooked Wood. Ten visible enemies are laughable compared to the idea of one hidden.
When Wilkins was satisfied that the rudder would never swivel again, he pocketed the tool and removed his oxygen tank. With a glance over his shoulder to check Wood was nearby, he jammed the hefty tank between the propeller and the mount. The loud clang sounded muffled through the water. There was no doubt the people onboard knew something was amiss. Wilkins made sure the tank was wedged tight and then turned to swim away.
As soon as they had swum a few feet, Wood heard the rumble of the boat’s engines fire up. His curious nature got the better of him and he turned back to spectate. Wilkins took a few long breaths from Wood’s regulator. As soon as the driver put the propeller into gear, a terrible grinding noise reverberated through the water. The propeller blades smashed against the oxygen tank a few times before the entire propeller assembly broke off and plummeted toward the bottom.
Wilkins gave Wood a weary smile and was halfway through another series of breaths when the water above them erupted. Slender trails of white water jetted toward them as their assailants fired guns blindly. Both Wood and Wilkins immediately dove a few more feet before they turned and watched the spectacular affair. The white streaks reminded Wood of a bizarre kind of fireworks display.
Because water is 1000 times denser than air, it is a reliably safe place to be during a shootout. Unless the shooter is directly above you, a bullet normally only travels about three feet through water. No bullet at any angle travels more than eight feet. With that knowledge, Wood and Wilkins passed the regulator back and forth as they enjoyed the show. Hundreds of bullets smashed through the water and then fell around them as harmless as rose petals.
When Wood checked the oxygen levels again, he nodded at Wilkins and they swam away surfacing once again at a safe distance. Wood heard the shriek of distant voices.
Wilkins began to choke on water because he laughed so hard. His eyes swelled with tears as he bobbed up and down with the waves. “It’s the simple things in life that really get me.”
An easterly wind had picked up in the late afternoon and the boat drifted farther away from them until it was just a white dot on the horizon. Wood looked back and forth between Egypt and Saudi Arabia. They were so far out at sea, both outlines looked misty in the distance.
“You know what they say to do if you fall off a cruise ship?” Wood asked.
“I can only imagine,” Wilkins said, as he floated lazily on his back and looked up toward the sky.
“They say if you have been stranded for more than three or four hours with no hope in sight, your chances of survival are slim to none. While it may be depressing, console yourself with memories of good times and the fact that you will probably pass out before you drown.”
Wilkins rolled his eyes. “Sounds like positive and inspirational advice. Why do you bring that up now?”
Wood looked around. The thin clouds high above them had turned a deep shade of orange. “We are in the middle of a large body of water with nothing but our suits. The sun is about to set, and we are at least five miles from any kind of land. We have no friendlies waiting for us even if we make it to shore.”
“At least I am no longer going to need this,” Wilkins said. He unstrapped the rest of his scuba gear and let it sink under the water.
Wood followed his lead and unstrapped the heavy tank from his own back. “The only question is,” he said, after freeing himself from everything unnecessary. “What direction do we go?”
Wilkins looked back and forth and then up at the sky. The light blues were now dark. “In the twilight, I can’t even see the outline of land anymore.” He pointed up. “But a cloudless night means we at least will have a sense of navigation.”
“That’s true,” Wood said. “Can you imagine trying to swim in a straight line through the night? It would be like trying to swim underwater with your eyes closed for hours on end.”
“We would end up right back here at dawn,” Wilkins said. He slapped the water. “After swimming in a series of massive circles.”
Wood pointed.
“This way. I have a feeling our friends have a surprise waiting for us if they get word we have returned to Egypt.”
Wilkins smirked. “No passports. No food or water. Already sunburned and exhausted. Nothing waiting for us but an endless desert. Sounds like my kind of party.”
Wood let out a long sigh. “Assuming we make it, the journey is going to take all night. I am probably not going to be able to see straight in a few hours, let alone the stars. Look on the bright side, at least you are going to be able to see Saudi Arabia a lot sooner than you thought.”
Chapter 15
Amara slammed the car door. “Damn cab drivers,” she yelled. The black and yellow taxi squealed away. She had tried to argue with the driver after being overcharged. He had either feigned ignorance to English or did not understand a single word she had spoken. She gave him the bird before he turned a sharp corner and disappeared in a cloud of dust. One of her biggest irritations as she traveled around the globe was when locals tried to scam her out of money. She never knew if it was because she was a woman, spoke English, or a combination of the two. Most of the time when she called them out, they would concede and charge her the correct amount. This taxi driver, however, had been as stubborn as a corrupt politician doubling down after being caught in their own web of lies.
He had understood her directions perfectly when she had explained her desired destination. Two clicks north of the Hipólito Yrigoyen Bridge. If memory served, one click was equivalent to one kilometer. Instead of remaining on the main highway, she had decided to follow a dirt road that ran parallel with the coast. The overgrown vegetation along both sides gave the impression that it had been around for a long time. She hoped it was the same road the old police commissioner and his officers would have traveled after questioning the German agent caught signaling the submarine.
The remoteness of the location surprised her. No signs of human activity besides the road could be seen in either direction. The sudden isolation spooked her a little. A bustling city possessed a certain familiarity she suddenly longed for. Strangers offered comfort just with their absent presence. She would have to walk back to town when she was done. It was not far though.
