by Melissa Good
Kerry didn’t deny the feeling of half-excitement, half-nervousness that tickled her guts. She walked over and sat down, put her arms through her BC, and stood up. The tank felt heavy, and she had to take a breath before she shrugged it into place and fastened the inner belly strap. She wasn’t really used to wearing the wetsuit and she flexed her arms, then ran a finger inside the sleeve constricting her biceps. It seemed snugger than she remembered, but then, the last time she’d worn it had been the previous year, and all those curls at the gym probably had something to do with that.
Dar stepped over to her and tightened the front clasp, then patted her on the side. “Ready?”
“Ready.” Kerry checked the fastenings holding her various hoses and tapped the inflation valve on her BC. She picked up her mask and followed Dar to the stern gate, already pulled back to give them access to the sea.
“Charlie, if anything’s going on up here, use this.” Dar handed him a ball peen hammer. “Smack it on the ladder, not the hull, huh?”
274 Melissa Good The ex-sailor took the hammer and nodded tensely. “If that phone rings, I’ll answer it,” he said. “See if I can get that asshole to let me talk to Bud.”
Dar patted him on the shoulder.
“Good luck.” Bob stuck his hands in his pockets, looking spectacularly useless. “Anything I can do while you’re down there?”
Dar paused, adjusting her mask. “You any good at heating up soup? There’s some in the cabinet. Give us forty-five minutes and we’ll be back up here, whether we find something or not.”
“Okay, sure,” Bob agreed readily. “It’s kinda chilly up here.
Good idea.”
“Thank you, honey,” Kerry murmured under her breath.
Dar smiled, then stepped off the stern and dropped into the water with a light splash, disappearing under the surface almost immediately.
Kerry made a last minute adjustment to her dive knife and then followed, committing herself to the sea.
THIS DIVE WAS different. Kerry felt it as soon as she entered the water and traded the warm sunset for the dim cool of the water.
She could see Dar waiting for her, one hand resting lightly on the anchor line, and she headed toward her as her body adjusted to the change in temperature. The wetsuit really did help ward off the chill. It was only a shortie, but it kept the core part of her body a lot warmer than it would have been in just a swimsuit, and once the neoprene got wet and loosened up, it became fairly comfortable.
She caught up to Dar, and they started downward at a rate faster than they usually went. Kerry had to equalize the pressure in her ears a few times as it built up during her descent. She could dimly see the wreck below, Dar having anchored the boat a lot closer this time than on their previous dive. The sunlight above was already fading, and as they got closer to the wreck, Dar turned on her dive light. Kerry did likewise.
On the bottom, they paused to regroup. Dar clipped her light to her vest, and then spread her hands out to encompass the wreck.
She then indicated a point halfway, and swept her hand out again and pointed at Kerry.
Kerry nodded, understanding that they would split up and each take half of the wreck. Dar then pointed to the interior of the ship and closed her fist, shaking it. She pointed at herself, then at Kerry, and then clasped her hands together before pointing at the interior again.
With another nod, Kerry agreed that she didn’t want to explore inside the vessel without Dar there. Dar held up a thumb and Terrors of the High Seas 275
forefinger in an okay sign.
They separated and swam off in opposite directions. Kerry took a moment to do a complete 360-degree turn, just to place herself inside the ocean. She fixed the location of the anchor rope in her mind, just in case, then went to the very front of the wreck debris and started looking around.
The wreck wasn’t really all in one piece. Dribbles of it were spread out a little, pieces of wood and iron half buried in the soft, white sand. Kerry slowly swam over them, letting the tips of her gloved hands lightly brush their encrusted surface. There was nothing out of the ordinary that she could see. The pieces of metal were cleats and other marine hardware she readily recognized.
Kerry drifted a few feet further and then she stopped and turned, looking back at the debris. Wait a minute. Her brow creased.
I do recognize all of it. She scanned the wreckage again, and then looked closer. Anchor chains, railings, braces—it was all there.
What was bothering her was what wasn’t there. She’d never been on a fishing vessel, and that was the point. Even after all this time, there should have been a lot of junk lying around in pieces that she had no clue about—things like nets, and winches, and whatever the heck fishermen used when they did it on a commercial basis. Kerry paused and thought about what she’d seen inside the hold of the vessel: crates, boxes, bunks.
She flipped over onto her back and studied the wreck as a whole, spotting Dar’s light down around the stern area. The sunlight was all but gone, and the boat was settling into a morose gloom, blending in with the reef surrounding it.
With a soft grunt, Kerry went vertical again and continued her search. She spotted a tumbled piece of wreckage off to one side and swam over to it, settling to the sand on her knees as she let the buoyancy out of her BC. She carefully eased the old wood aside, then lifted the piece and examined it. The wood was covered in sea growth, which she gently eased off of one part of it. She could see darker markings underneath, and she worked at it until she’d cleared a small area of the wood. Her light revealed a partial word, or something that might be a word. It didn’t mean anything to her, however. She put the piece of wood into her catch bag and continued exploring.
DAR FOUND HERSELF at the back end of the boat, seeing nothing remarkable in the debris trail leading out from it. She drifted down to the bottom and looked at the half-buried stern, where there were still faint traces of the name of the boat on the encrusted metal.
She ran her hands along the slanted deck, jerking back when an eel squiggled out of what had once been the engine exhaust.
276 Melissa Good Diesel inboards, Dar noted, not that different from what powered her own craft now eighty feet above her head. She eased up over the stern and onto the deck, startling a grouper. A small school of gorgeous blue and yellow angels swarmed around her as she slowly swam along, looking for any signs of something she knew she wouldn’t know even if she spotted it.
A cleat on the deck drew her interest and she descended, touching the round, heavy iron circle with her hand. Meant to hold down a vertical piece of equipment, she found the center of it—
coral-encrusted wood, indicating it hadn’t been in use when the vessel went down. Her eyes tracked to a second cleat, and then a third, much larger one. Dar frowned, thinking about the fishing vessels she’d seen in the marina. The net winches would have been bolted down here, she realized, along with the heavy motors to draw in the thick nets so their contents could be dumped into the open hold.
The hold doors were there, cracked open and granting the access to the ship’s interior that she and Kerry had used the last time, but as she circled around the deck, she realized that nothing else was there—no cranes, no winches, no mechanism the fishermen would use to retrieve their catch.
She felt something approaching and her head jerked up, only to find Kerry soaring up over the wheelhouse, moving toward her.
Her partner slowed to a halt, then pulled out her small slate and a grease pencil and started to scribble. Dar left her to write, as she drifted off into the wheelhouse.
It was fairly dark inside. She directed her flash around and examined the dim, silent place where the captain had likely spent his last moments. For a second, her skin prickled and she looked around, sternly telling her imagination to pick a better time to become active. The inside of the structure was covered in coral, and she had to move cautiously so as not to get her gear tangled or snagged.
The chair bolted to t
he floor had come loose. Dar ducked around it, and examined the console that held the ship’s wheel. The old-fashioned, nubbed wood was surprisingly intact, and she curled her hand around one of the spokes. The wheel had a brass inset, and she leaned closer, shining her light on it. The sea had corroded it badly, but she could see the plate was loose, and she pulled out her dive knife and gently pried at it. It came loose and floated down. Dar ducked around the wheel after it and snagged it in one hand near the decking of the wheelhouse. She was just turning to come back up when she spotted an odd profile under the front console.
Curious, she flipped over onto her back and wriggled underneath the metal shelf, shining her light on her find. It was Terrors of the High Seas 277
covered in growth, but Dar could just make out something clamped there, and she cleared away some of the coral to get a better look.
The outline was sinister. Dar felt a chill down her spine and she glanced behind her in pure reflex. Shaking her head in annoyance, she moved in closer and worked carefully at the clamp, trying to pry it free.
A hand grabbed her ankle. With a surprised burst of bubbles, Dar lurched upward, slamming her head against the console and knocking herself silly. Disoriented, she lashed out with an arm, then felt a familiar grip on her and realized it was Kerry. She went limp with relief, and rubbed her head where it had impacted the metal. Kerry pulled her closer and removed her regulator to kiss the spot.
Dar rolled onto her back and gazed up at her partner reproachfully. Kerry gave her an apologetic look, but handed her the slate to read. Dar scanned the message and nodded vigorously, giving Kerry a thumbs-up. Then she pointed under the console to her prize.
Kerry floated over her, going belly to belly with her in the small space. She directed her light on the item, then jerked back in surprise, looking at Dar in a questioning manner.
Trapped comfortably under Kerry’s body, Dar spread both hands in an attitude of questioning also. Kerry pointed at the item and then made a tugging motion. Dar nodded agreement, and gave her a gentle poke in the side.
Kerry pushed back out of the way, allowing Dar to roll over and take hold of the encrusted relic. She braced herself, then pulled.
The item didn’t budge. With a scowl, Dar got a better grip, pressed her fins against the console, and hauled backwards with all the strength of her powerful shoulders and thighs. There was a sound they could hear even underwater as the metal ripped loose abruptly, sending Dar shooting backwards into Kerry, and both of them into the wheel in a clash of bodies, tanks, and dislodged coral.
Kerry rolled out of the way, but her hose caught on one of the wheel spokes and yanked her around. She twisted in surprise, and with a pop, the hose ruptured and pulled loose from her second stage. Air stopped. Kerry’s eyes snapped open wide and she reached back, her other hand grabbing for Dar’s arm nearby. She spat out her regulator and stuck it into her pocket, reaching down for her secondary. The broken line was spewing bubbles, however, and she realized it was her life running out and gathering up along the ceiling.
Dar whirled at the sound of air releasing, spotting the problem immediately. She dropped her hard-won relic and pounced on Kerry, pulling her around to get at her second stage. In an instant, she grabbed Kerry’s hand, pulled out her own reserve regulator, 278 Melissa Good and handed it to Kerry.
Kerry grabbed her residual air computer and showed it to Dar.
Dar just pushed the regulator at her as she turned the valve on the top of Kerry’s tank to shut her air down. Kerry took the regulator and exchanged it, now breathing off the same tank as Dar. She picked up Dar’s computer and looked at it, clutching Dar’s arm in alarm.
Dar patted her cheek comfortingly and kept working. It was getting dark. Dar propped up her light and grabbed Kerry’s broken hose, examining the end of it. Discarding the hose a moment later, she pulled a small packet out of her BC and unwrapped it, disclosing a multipurpose tool and some small, shiny things that looked like foreshortened bullets.
Kerry waited tensely, unable to see what Dar was doing and very conscious of the air they were both expending. On Dar’s tank, they would not have enough for both of them to get to the surface with a safety stop, which would expose them to the danger of the bends. Kerry tried to remain calm, breathing slowly and evenly.
The water closed in around her, now dense and dark, flickers of unknown life visible at the perimeter of her vision.
Dar closed the end of her pliers on the bit of hose stuck in the second stage, twisting it hard and unscrewing the end of the broken part. It jammed a little, but she finally coaxed it out and let it drop to the ground. From the selection of small bullets, she picked up one and inserted it into the hole, gently working it in and screwing the threaded plug into place. She tightened it down, and then slowly opened the valve again, watching carefully for any bubbles.
There were none.
She tapped Kerry on the shoulder and motioned for her to exchange regulators again. Her lover did so immediately, sucking in air from her own reserve with a look of utter relief. Dar put her tools away, and then checked her watch. They had been down too long, she realized, and from the look in Kerry’s eyes, Kerry knew it too. Dar pointed toward the wheelhouse entrance, knowing they didn’t have time to even glance into the ship’s hold. But there wasn’t anything she could do about that. All she could do was grab up the relic she’d found and head for the surface.
She followed Kerry out into the dark ocean. Almost no light was coming down now, and the wreck was receding into a mysterious shadow. Dar hefted her bit of metal in one hand and got her bearings, moving slowly away from the boat toward their anchor line.
Kerry checked her compass, shining her light ahead of her until it reflected off the silvery chain reaching up toward the surface.
She took hold of the anchor line, grateful for its security as they began to inch their way upward. It was the first time she’d ever had Terrors of the High Seas 279
an equipment failure, and she had to admit it had rattled her badly.
She knew that if she hadn’t had Dar with her and Dar hadn’t been prepared as she always was, she’d have been facing an emergency ascent and the very real possibility of a diver’s nightmare. The bends meant the trapping of nitrogen bubbles inside her bloodstream, bubbles that would grow bigger as she shot to the surface and potentially cut off her circulation. A normal rate of ascent gave the gas plenty of time to be gradually reabsorbed, but doing anything else opened you up to the risk of a heart attack, a stroke, paralysis, or death. Kerry wasn’t ready to die yet, and just the thought of a stroke like her father had suffered made her blood run ice cold.
But she had been lucky; Dar had been there. Kerry felt a lump in her throat as they paused for a safety stop. Watching her from behind her mask, Dar circled her leg with an arm and squeezed it.
With the dark water around them, it was an oddly intimate moment. Kerry leaned forward and pressed her mask against Dar’s, just looking into her eyes. She forgot about their mission. She forgot where they were, and for just that moment, Kerry was simply glad to be alive.
Dar brushed her fingertips against Kerry’s jaw. Her eyes smiled. Kerry caught her hand and clasped it. She could feel the powerful emotion running between them so strongly; words would just have been window dressing. Above them, their conjoined bubbles twirled lazily for the surface.
Breaking the surface first, Dar pulled off her mask and shook the hair out of her eyes. She spotted the boat, Charlie and Bob waiting anxiously on its deck, and moved toward it.
Kerry emerged just behind her, surprised at the chop that the water had developed. Glad their dive was over, she kept her regulator in her mouth as she followed Dar through the waves. She hung onto the ladder while her partner hauled herself up on board, Dar’s catch bag heavy with the relic she’d recovered as it banged against her knee.
As Dar cleared the ladder, Kerry tossed her fins on board, then grabbed the metal rungs and, with a surge of energy, pulled he
rself and her gear up out of the water. She was already stepping onto the deck by the time Dar turned, and she gave her lover a tiny wave as she made her way over to the bench and sat down on it. So, Kerry, her mind gently mocked, wanted to look macha in front of the boys, hm? She hooked her tanks up on the holder and unfastened her BC, sitting back and relaxing as the weight came off her shoulders.
“Find anything?” Bob asked. “Looks like you did!”
Dar shed her catch bag, which clattered onto the deck. “Found a couple things,” she said. “How are we doing on time?”
“All right,” Charlie told her. “Wind’s come up.”
280 Melissa Good
“So I noticed.” Dar shucked her gear and stood up straight, pulling her hair back and wringing the water from it. “We found some things I can’t really explain, but I’ll tell you what we didn’t find.” She put her hands on neoprene-covered hips. “We didn’t find fishing gear.”
Charlie and Bob looked at each other. “Huh?” Bob said. “What d’you mean? It was a fishing boat.”
“Yeah.” Kerry stood and went to the cabinet, where she pulled out two towels. The night air was cool, and she was starting to chill.
“But Dar’s right. There wasn’t any fishing gear on it. No nets, no whatever-those-things-are they use to pull the nets up, nothing.”
She tossed Dar one of the towels. “I found a part of a crate I brought up.” She wrapped the other towel around her, closing her jaw to prevent her teeth from chattering. “I need to go put on something dry.”
“Go.” Dar pushed her gently towards the cabin. “Where’s that soup?” she asked Bob, giving him a direct stare.
“Oh. Um...inside.” Bob pointed. “I’ll go get it.” He opened the door and let Kerry enter ahead of him, then closed it behind them both.
