Beneath

by Maureen A. Miller

  Stella froze.

  His hand splayed across her stomach. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be a statue.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice and she relaxed slightly.

  “When do you release them?”

  “We’ll do it together. To your left I want you to feel for the lever I pointed out earlier. It’s like a vertical door handle. When the time comes you’re going to flip that handle up.”

  Stella’s fingertips blindly roamed over the icy steel, encountering a few buttons and switches, but nothing that felt like a door handle. Another loud pop made her hand jerk. She sat with it suspended in the air, waiting to see if this latest racket proved to be their demise. When nothing exploded she continued her search and located the handle.

  “Okay, I found it. How do I know for sure it’s the handle you’re speaking about. What if this is some auxiliary hatch release?”

  “That would suck,” Colin uttered behind her.

  She thwacked his thigh.

  “I inspected the inside of this cockpit with a torch several times. It’s the only handle over there. You’re good.”

  Stella would have thought that information would lift the heaviness from her chest, but the pressure was mounting. She felt like she was breathing with a concrete slab over her rib cage.

  “Col,” she tested quietly, “do you feel weird?”

  “How so?” The concern in his tone was immediate.

  “My chest is so tight, and my ears–hurt.”

  Colin reached around and held her in both arms.

  “Easy,” he coaxed. “Just take slow breaths. Remember, the pressure in here is atmospheric–static. If we’re going to have any pressure adjustment issues it will most likely happen at the surface. What you’re feeling is natural panic.”

  It sounded like a sales pitch to her.

  “Try the nose trick for your ears.”

  Stella reached up and squeezed her nose and then tried to blow out. It only intensified the pain.

  “Oww!”

  “Okay, okay.” Colin sensed her unravelling. “I don’t know how far we’ve come, but let’s release the weights. That will accelerate our speed.”

  “Yes,” she cried. “Just get me to the surface.”

  She hated the shrill sound of her voice in this urn, but Colin was right, she was freaked. When is the first time someone discovers they are claustrophobic?

  “Put your hand on the latch, but don’t pull until I say. I want to keep us upright.”

  Stella nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see it.

  “Three. Two. One. Now!”

  Yanking the handle, she whimpered when it wouldn’t budge. Panicked, she felt the muscles in her fingers cramp with her redoubled efforts. Colin’s side came loose as they tipped. In that second she wrenched the handle up and the submersible stabilized.

  The feeling of ascent was pronounced. She envisioned them slicing through this black sludge and leaned towards the window in anticipation, waiting for the telltale brightening of the ocean water–the filtration of sun–the glory of the sky.

  It never came.

  Up. Up. Up.

  Weightless, Stella felt perspiration bead up on her forehead. Colin’s arm locked around her waist, stabilizing her. She focused on that as the nausea kicked in and her whole body began to sweat.

  Colin coughed. His chest quaked behind her, the rugged beat of his heart drumming against her back.

  Up. Up. Up.

  “How long has it been?” she choked out.

  “I can’t tell.” He leaned around her side, trying to see through the domed window.

  “Dammit,” he cursed.

  The palm that was pressed against the hull curled up as she was ready to claw her way through the steel. Terror wrapped around her throat, choking her. To hell with drowning. She was going to suffocate right here.

  There was a sudden lurch that hurled her stomach up behind her teeth, followed by a turbulent bobbing. But, the sensation of climbing had ceased.

  “Col?” she cried.

  Colin leaned forward.

  “I think we made it, Stel,” he uttered with reserved enthusiasm. “With our crap luck it just happens to be nighttime.”

  “Col, I’m gonna throw up.”

  “All right. Let me get up.”

  Stella lifted off his lap and crouched to the side, her feet pinched together on the tight floor space.

  Colin pressed his face to the window as they could hear the slosh of waves lapping against the exterior.

  “I’m going to open the hatch a crack. If water comes in, I’ll close it immediately.”

  “Hurry!” Her stomach rolled with each pitch of the sub.

  Colin climbed onto the pilot seat. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel the stretch of his body as he reached above for the hatch. Grunting in effort, he twisted the wheel.

  The vacuum around them suddenly eased as her ears popped. A splash of water trickled on her face, followed by another. They felt blessed.

  “It’s okay,” he called from above. “That’s just spray from the ocean.” There was a slight pause and then he added, “Stel, we made it!”

  Stella climbed up onto the chair, using her hands on his chest to guide her up.

  “Col,” her stomach heaved. “Now.”

  Colin threw back the hatch. Saltwater sprayed over them as Colin hoisted her up until her fingers could wrap around the ledge and her head could reach over. Unable to hold back anymore, she retched over the exterior hull. As her body racked a few more times she finally managed a weak, “okay.”

  Colin’s hands were under her armpits as he lowered her back onto the pilot seat.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever eat crabmeat again,” she joked sickly.

  Colin pulled her into his embrace and kissed her forehead.

  “Do you feel that?” he asked with a smile in his voice.

  She did.

  Air. Glorious air.

  Salty, but with a crisp freshness that had been denied in the Underworld.

  It took a few minutes for her chest to expand enough to suck it all in. She coughed when some salt spray dipped into her lungs.

  The Underworld.

  It seemed so far beneath them. A surreal place scarcely imaginable now.

  Together they tipped their heads back and stared up at the stars. Pinpricks of light dotted a black sky. It wasn’t so black, though. There was a three-quarter moon scoring a brilliant path across the water. In that light the ocean rolled in tame waves.

  “Grab your notebook, Stel. We need to try and draw the stars as best we can.”

  Stella crouched back down and felt along the floor for the plastic bag that held her notebook. When she drew the pad out she could feel that it was damp around the edges. She fished for her pen and scrambled back up.

  Flipping the notebook open, her sight acclimated to the moonlight. After all, hadn’t they learned to adapt to limited light? Was it just a matter of time before their eyes started to glow green?

  Stella tried her best to sketch the night sky, but both knew it was almost futile. No drawing was ever going to note their exact location. Still, she drew it all–a three-quarter moon and her best guess at its position above the horizon.

  “I think I have it. I mean, it’s crude of course.”

  “You did good,” he rubbed her back. “We’re going to have to close this hatch until morning. We don’t want to take in too much water.”

  Stella hated the idea of losing the fresh air, but he was right. “Okay,” she pouted.

  Colin chuckled as he reached above her to haul the latch back into place. He then spun the wheel and immediately her ears plugged in protest.

  “Come on,” Colin urged. “Let’s sit down. Judging from the position of the moon, I’d say it’s a few hours until sunrise.”

  “I want to see that, Col. I want to see the sun rise.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “So do I.”

  He dropped back
down into the pilot seat and guided her down onto his lap. This time she was seated sideways, her legs dangling over his thigh, her arms wrapped around his neck. She rested her head against him, feeling his assuring pulse on her cheek. After some time she must have drifted off to sleep because next thing she knew Colin was whispering in her ear.

  “Stella, look.”

  Stella opened her eyes and blinked. Actually, she winced at the soft pink glow that illuminated the cockpit. Sliding one leg off his lap, she leaned into the domed window and could see a brilliant path of gold slice through the ocean. Milky green water undulated outside the acrylic hole.

  “Let’s go up,” she urged.

  Colin scooted out from under her and climbed up to twist the hatch, shoving it open.

  Cool air brushed over their faces.

  What month was it? September, October?

  Her eyes finally adjusted as they silently watched the sun climb out of the water. Darkness surrendered to the light. Cumulus clouds with their pink heavy bellies slowly blossomed into downy white pillows.

  Colin twisted, searching the watery vista.

  “No seagulls. No land,” he reported. “But hey, now I know why they paint these things yellow. Surely someone will see this big, bobbing tennis ball.”

  The upbeat tone was forced. As she looked around despondency began to set in. They had done it. They had escaped the Underworld and risen to the surface. Now they were in the middle of the ocean with no flares, no communication, no means to draw attention, and no ships or planes on the horizon.

  Colin reached for her face, cupping her cheek. In the sun his eyes flashed with a million beguiling colors. Jade, brown, caramel. She could see his face so much clearer now, and she was taken by how attractive he was. She reached up and dusted her fingers across the bridge of his nose.

  “Your nose,” she began.

  Colin frowned. “Yeah, what about it?”

  “What happened?”

  Shaking his head, he grinned. “A fist fight in a back alley with two six-foot-five thugs.”

  Stella’s mouth twisted in disbelief.

  “Seriously?”

  “Nah. I got too close to the swing set when we were kids. Jill was swinging and her foot clipped my nose. It hurt like hell.”

  Lifting onto her toes, Stella kissed the slight bump. “I like it. It makes you look human. If your nose was perfect you’d be too intimidating.”

  “Intimidating?” He lowered his eyebrows in staged menace.

  “Not like that,” she laughed. “I mean, if you were that perfect there’s no way you’d like someone like me.”

  “So because I broke my nose I can like you?”

  “Something like that.” Her voice trailed off as she listened to the constant ebb and flow of the waves. Her head lolled on top of her neck in the same rhythm.

  “Col,” she began futilely.

  “Shh. Someone will come. Have faith, Gullaksen.”

  She closed her eyes, pressing her face into his palm.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  He reached forward and leaned his forehead against hers. “That’s a relief.”

  That made her smile as she kissed his hand.

  They stood in that embrace for a few minutes until Colin stirred. “Hey, let’s close it up. Now that we have light in the cockpit we can do a better search. Maybe there’s something in here that we can use.”

  Yes. A plan. A task.

  Stella dove back into the cockpit with renewed enthusiasm, hearing the deadening clunk of the hatch drop shut behind them.

  Inside the sphere, Colin narrated every device he could identify.

  “Look at all this handy stuff,” he said, pointing to one black screen. “Depth gauge.” He moved to the next panel. “Handheld radio.” He continued to identify components that were literally dead in the water.

  Stella followed his hand and caught a reflection of herself in one of the empty steel panels. There was a grain in the alloy that made her slightly fuzzy, but she could see long dark hair now in chaotic waves. All the tan from the summer was gone. Murky brown eyes stared back from a pale face.

  The indistinct reflection seemed appropriate. It was as if she had lost herself, and all that remained was this altered image.

  She still had the white dress on over her clothes because it was cold at night. Reaching to tuck the tangled hair behind her ears, Stella frowned.

  “Col.” She ran her fingers along the plate that was screwed into the bulkhead. “Couldn’t we use this?”

  Puzzled by her attention, he followed her gaze. Comprehension widened his eyes.

  “Yes.” He stepped in closer to examine the screwed-in handles. “It’s reflective enough to catch the sun glare. Maybe even moon glare at night.”

  Stella felt some much needed adrenaline kick in.

  He spun around. “There are three empty panels. Daniel threw in a coil of rope. We could use it to fasten these just outside the hatch.”

  “It’s got to help, right?” she asked, hopeful.

  Colin was already crouched down, digging his hand under the pilot’s seat.

  “You bet! Look for drawers–anything that might hold a tool we can use to unscrew these.”

  Stella started cautiously yanking on handles, afraid she might accidentally trip a latch that would drop open the bottom of the sub.

  “Here!” Colin pulled an orange plastic kit from an unmarked compartment.

  He opened the box and looked dismayed.

  “I was hoping for a flare, but hey, this is very helpful.” He pulled out a sheathed diving knife. He inserted the tip inside the slotted screw and tried to turn. The blade slipped out. With a muttered curse he tried again, pushing as he turned.

  “I felt a bite.”

  Redoubling his efforts, they both murmured, yes as the screw began to loosen. It took time and patience, but by midday he had removed all three panels and cut sections of rope with the knife.

  “All right, I’ll climb up and you hand me one of the panels,” he instructed.

  They affixed the three panels and flinched when the sun hit one. The glare was piercing–until the clouds poured in.

  Stella sat with her butt wedged into the domed window, facing Colin. Her forehead dropped onto his shoulder.

  “We have no more water,” she whispered in a hoarse voice.

  “We just need it to rain.” Gone was the robust strength in his tone. “We can capture the water in the container we brought.”

  Hunger poked at her innards with rigid fingers. They had nearly exhausted their limited food supply. A few commercial jets had flown overhead, but far too high to ever see them. The ocean remained endless and frustratingly empty in all directions. What had it been, two days? Three? Four?

  “You promised me a dinner out,” Stella murmured. “What restaurant do you want to go to?”

  Colin was quiet. For a moment she thought he might have fallen asleep. They were both so tired. So utterly drained. What little food they had digested they were having a tough time keeping down.

  “For our first date,” he said hoarsely, “I’d just want it to be you and me. Like this.”

  “Like this?” she laughed weakly.

  She felt his lips curl up against her forehead. “I mean, just the two of us. No one is ever going to understand us, Stel. No one will ever comprehend or believe what we’ve been through.”

  What he said was true. The only people to understand were still beneath the ocean.

  “Would you cook me dinner?” Her voice was fading.

  “I would. If you’d eat macaroni and cheese.”

  She smiled envisioning the creamy sauce smothered over pasta. A loud grumble sounded from her belly.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled.

  “Col,” she sighed. “Can we take a nap?”

  More silence, but she was already diving down into slumber. Diving down into the dark water. Down into the caves where luminous green eyes lurked, watching f
or her. Inside that dank cavern a loud horn blared. Stella frowned. It should be a bell, not a horn.

  “Stel,” Colin shook her shoulder. “Wake up.”

  Stella mumbled, still caught in the netherworld.

  “Stel, there’s something out there.”

  Yes. A Chimaera. It was moving in–crawling closer to the Underworld–hugging the shadows of the bungalows–peering in the glassless window at the sleeping prey.

  The horn must have been an alert.

  Run, she thought. Run.

  “Stella, wake up.”

  Colin’s voice broke through. She grabbed her head in both hands. It ached so much. The sun hurt her face–her eyes.

  The sun.

  So bright.

  The panels above lobbed the rays back at the orb with molten swords.

  A horn sounded. Closer this time.

  “Col?”

  “Come on,” he urged. “I’ve got you.”

  Colin clutched her arms, guiding her up the tight barrel. As she climbed up into vivid daylight wind lashed her hair into her eyes.

  “Look,” Colin cried.

  There was enough power in his command for her to obey. She swiped the hair back and thought the sun was playing tricks with her eyes. Was she deranged? That seemed a more practical concept than the silhouette of the ship cutting a wedge through the ocean. The tip of that V was aimed at their submersible.

  The horn blared again, breaking through her lethargy. Stella gripped the rim of the hatch and squinted against the glare.

  It looked like a fishing boat. A large one. Perhaps perspective was tainted by the light. Colin climbed higher, pinning his thighs to each side of the hatch so that he could wave both arms overhead.

  Stella hefted up, her arm slicing over her head with a weak wave. She began to shout. Where the sound came from, she’ll never know, but she yelled for twenty minutes until that boat approached and she could see the men on the bow waving back.

  “We did it, Stel,” Colin hugged her. “We did it.”

  There was nothing to say, and she wouldn’t be capable of speaking if she tried. She had poured it all out. Her throat scratched and closed, and all she could do was clutch him and cry.

  EPILOGUE