by Frank Perry
once it could do about a hundred fifty.” He was quick to add, “Not that I’ve ever done it.”
“Awesome.”
“Back in its day, it was the fastest car in a drag, in a straight line.”
He looked at her, “I hope you don’t mind, I usually drive my county car and keep this one in my garage, but it’s such a nice day, I wanted to exercise it.”
She smiled, “It’s nice, a real boy-toy. Just don’t try to impress me too much.”
He smiled, “Like I said, it’s too old to go street racing.”
Living modestly, alone, had allowed Jim to indulge his dreams more that most men his age with families. Even on his salary, he was able to buy a few things out of the reach of most people with practical budgets.
The trip to downtown Ann Arbor took no more than fifteen minutes. Most of the students were away from the University during the summer, but the sidewalks along Washington Avenue were still relatively full with tourists. He cruised about half way down the main part of the street until finding a parking space parallel to the curb between two expensive sedans. The old Plymouth was huge by modern standards and it took him two tries to negotiate the space. “I don’t get much practice in this thing.”
Kiki smiled, “I’m impressed. Using the manual transmission doesn’t make it easier.”
He grinned as they exited, “The biggest problem is horsepower. I have to slip the clutch a lot.”
Chad was in love with it.
Jim had made reservations at a small bistro that had survived for over ten years in the highly-competitive university environment. Most came and went in less than two years. It was too muggy to sit outside comfortably, so they sat indoors where most of the tables were occupied.
The waiter held Kiki’s chair. “Thanks.” Speaking to Jim, “This is impressive. They’re doing a good business even when school’s not in session. It must be good.”
He unfolded his napkin, “I like the variety and the quality is good. I figured we could all find something on the menu.”
The evening went by quickly, and everyone had a good time. Even Chad enjoyed hearing about his mother’s experiences in high school. Towards the end of dinner, Kiki admitted vaguely remembering Jim as a senior on the football team. She would have been a sophomore when he was a senior lineman. She remembered the quarterback. She didn’t remember Jim on the field, but had seen him walking around in his team jacket. They’d never spoken in school. He didn’t remember her, which seemed odd for such a tall, good-looking girl. She said that she was pretty dowdy back then, one of the reasons she’d wanted to get out of Jackson as fast as she did.
Chad and Jim got along great, which pleased Kiki. They talked a lot about growing up in Michigan at the geographic center of muscle car heaven. Jim offered to take Chad to several car museums if he returned. In the end, Jim and Kiki were both determined to see each other again.
Last Dive
The chilly late-summer Siberian breeze blew in gusts across the deck of the mother ship, as the crew readied the submarine for its final dive of the expedition. Ivan and Nikolai stood outside the galley door drinking tea, watching the crew attach the lifting cable and test the umbilical connection. The submarine was beginning to show some signs of wear with a few rusty scrapes from some of the debris encountered in the murky depths. There was something fateful about this morning as the lake surface churned with small chop and wind waves. Ivan commented, “You know, Nikolai, it seemed so long ago that we began this adventure, I never thought it would end, certainly not without a trace of the train.”
Nikolai remained contemplative, staring toward the dawning sun. “Yes, my friend. It’s been a long journey, but it really began over thirty years ago at the university.” In fact, the men had known each other since before they’d met their wives, before any children or grandchildren, and while both still had living parents. They’d shared their entire adult lives together in many ways.
Ivan smiled and placed his cup inside the galley door on a small table, “Yes, a long time.” Without another word, he donned another sweater for additional warmth at depth, then walked directly to the ladder. Within two minutes, dialogue with the crew ceased through the hatch as it was sealed shut. Nikolai watched as the small white vessel began lifting off of its cradle. He could see Ivan signaling thumbs up through the viewing port as the cable tensed, lifting the submarine up and over the side of the mother ship. The exhilaration from prior trips to the bottom was now outweighed by the frustration they felt about finding no trace of a train so far. He didn’t want to speculate on the odds of finding anything on the last dive. Behind him, in the galley, he heard, “Radio check, are you there, Nikolai?”
“All is well here, Ivan. Good luck on the bottom!”
It was hard to imagine in the submarine how his partner could sound so enthusiastic at this point. The sub bounced around on the choppy surface while the external ballast tanks released air and filled with water. For the next few minutes he would descend into increasing darkness before turning the lights on when the depth sounder showed the bottom below.
They had agreed privately to keep the dialogue positive over the intercom and not to discuss finances when the crew could be listening near the command center in the galley. Ivan said nothing as the vessel sank from its own weight. The descent was controlled manually by adjusting the amount of water allowed into the front and rear ballast tanks.
After about seven minutes, the depth gauge showed fifty feet to the bottom as Ivan released high-pressure air into the tanks, slowing his descent. He felt some satisfaction as he skillfully leveled only ten feet above the floor in the smoothest transition yet. But it was small gratification. “Nikolai, do you hear me?”
“Yes, Ivan. I have you located on GPS and our sonar aboard the ship. You should maneuver to the right for about forty meters to resume the search pattern.”
“I am moving now.”
There was no more dialogue for a short time before Nikolai spoke again, “That is good, Ivan. Now steer at one hundred degrees and you should see marks from yesterday.”
The reply came immediately. “I am turning course to one hundred degrees by magnetic compass.”
For the next two hours he maneuvered according to the chart they had diagrammed at the beginning of the expedition. Nothing appeared and silt was beginning to overtake Ivan. “Nikolai, wake up. We should think about a different course to get out of the clouds.”
There was no immediate response, so he repeated, “Nikolai.”
He continued on course reluctantly without confirmation from his partner. There had been some connection problems periodically that stopped communications, and they would probably be fixing it on the mother ship.
Toward the end of the time limit for him to be on the bottom, when air supplies were depleted and he had to use the remainder to surface, Ivan tried one more time to communicate above. There was no energy in his voice, partly from fatigue, but mostly from frustration. Once again, there was no response from the surface. “Nikolai, if you can hear me, I cannot hear you. I am going to begin blowing the ballast tanks now to surface.” He didn’t pull the levers immediately. For some unexplainable reason the solitude at this depth was soothing to his spirit. He thought about Anna, his wife, and Elaina, his daughter. The extended family was living together while his son-in-law looked for a new job. Mother and daughter would be shopping together each day for the dinner meal, then spending the nights playing with his twin grandsons before putting them to bed. It would be several more hours before the babies went to sleep. Somehow, it soothed him to know they would sleep like babies tonight; they were babies after all. It gave him peace of mind to know they were well. He could live with that knowledge.
The air supply had lost some pressure, as always, after maneuvering on the bottom for three hours. The buoyancy changed slowly as the submarine began inching its way up from the bottom. As the air blew into the tanks, the additional
turbulence stirred the bottom silt further, making it impossible to see far outside. The sub started rising a little faster. He hoped the mother ship knew he was surfacing and backed away to avoid colliding with their bottom. There was nothing for him to do at this point except monitor gauges and adjust buoyancy, if needed.
Suddenly, the vessel jerked and canted nose-up at a steep angle. What? He tried to remain calm, but anything unusual was frightening at this depth. “Nikolai, come in!”
With silence on the intercom, Ivan decided to turn the submarine around and blow out ballast to descend again and find where the umbilical was tangled. This used precious air and electrical power. He looked at the battery levels, which were dangerously low, indicating that surface power may have been interrupted for most of the dive.
As he turned, the umbilical came into view and slackened as he used the engines to drive along the cord. He needed to see if he could dislodge it if stuck under a girder. The emergency cutoff had never been tested and would only give him one attempt to cut the cable. He didn’t want to do it. His engineering mind told him that it had only been installed for peace-of-mind and not actual usage. As he maneuvered along in the black depths, his lights were noticeably dimmer. He bumped into the bottom while preoccupied, looking for the cable.