“I'm OK. I always bring a change of shorts, just in case,” replied Ensign Matola, grinning ear to ear.
“Man, for a minute there, I thought we were ditching,” Ensign Waters added, still a bit shaken.
“What do you say we identify this beacon and get the hell out of here? First man to make contact gets a twenty,” Lt. Cmdr. Briggs said, hoping to soothe their fears with a contest.
“Twenty? What are we talking here? Push-ups or pesos?” Ensign Matola joked in characteristic fashion.
“Cash, my boy. Cold hard cash,” Lt. Cmdr. Briggs replied.
“For twenty bucks, Matola would sell his own mother,” Ensign Waters joked, hoping to get a rise out of his friend.
“Sir, you impugn my good character. Everyone who knows me, knows I wouldn't settle for anything less than fifty,” Ensign Matola retorted with tasteless humor.
“OK, boys, let's cut the chatter. Your twenty is burning a hole in my pocket,” Lt. Cmdr. Briggs said, gently refocusing his men.
As he returned his own focus to his instruments, an enormous flash of lightning burst in front of them, instantly reporting a deafening crack of thunder. Each man jumped in his seat, shocked that something so powerful and deadly could be so close.
“Wow, this is one big-ass storm,” Lt. Cmdr. Briggs said quietly to the Lieutenant seated next to him, slipping out of character briefly.
“Yes, sir,” Lt. Davidson replied, feeling a bit uneasy about the ever worsening conditions.
“What do you estimate the wave height at?” Lt. Cmdr. Briggs asked, still working the controls aggressively.
“Got be at least fifteen feet, sir,” Lt. Davidson answered, his binoculars still glued to the ocean below.
“If I had to guess, I'd say more like fifteen to twenty feet,” Lt. Cmdr. Briggs offered.
“You could be right,” Lt Davidson replied with dread in his voice.
Circling back and forth across their original path, they concentrated intently on finding the source of the beacon. In the time it took them to fly to the scene, an hour from their base, the wave heights had grown dramatically from two feet to the twenty. Watching the waves, large, powerful, and never-ending, they all knew this mission was now anything but routine.
Suddenly, from the rear of the cabin came a shout from Ensign Matola.
“Bingo, you owe me twenty bucks, sir!” Ensign Matola hollered into his microphone.
“You spotted it? What is it? Plane or boat?” Lt. Cmdr. Briggs yelled back in slight disbelief.
“Port side, eleven o'clock, three hundred yards. A man and what looks like a raft of some kind,” Ensign Matola responded immediately.
“A raft?” Lt. Cmdr. Briggs replied as he searched the area himself.
“Eleven o'clock? Son of a...” Lt. Davidson called out, feigning insult. “How'd you find him before me? That's my quadrant.”
“When there's cash involved, I can move mountains,” Ensign Matola replied.
“You suck up,” Ensign Waters said, elbowing his friend in the arm.
“I got him now,” Lt. Cmdr. Briggs announced, with a sense of relief in his voice.
“I got 'em too,” Lt. Davidson called out.
With a quick flick of the control stick, the helicopter quickly veered off to the left on a heading to intercept the man’s position. With all eyes on the lighted spot in their binoculars, their minds couldn't believe what their eyes were seeing. Even with the limited fidelity of the binoculars focus at night, the four could still make out the violent action taking place a hundred feet below. Staring in horror, they watched as the waves manhandled the man, tossing him about like a weightless doll by an angry child.
“Whoa. Holy shit, did you see that?” Ensign Matola yelled out in shock.
“I saw it. That guy's in real trouble down there. Let's get this done, now!" Lt. Davidson yelled out anxiously.
Approaching the man’s location, Lt. Cmdr. Briggs switched on their outside searchlight, flooding the area with light and illuminating the difficulty they were facing. Putting away their binoculars, all four watched as the large waves and wind created a horrific scene below.
"Wow, that looks ugly down there. You better be real careful, Andrew," Ensign Waters said to his friend with genuine concern.
"Man, you're starting to sound like my mother. That's nothing down there. It'll be fun. By the time you've taken your Geritol, I'll be back," Ensign Matola joked.
Ensign Matola turned his head away from his friend. He looked out the door and swallowed hard. He felt dread as he noticed the tops of the waves being torn from their crests and envisioned himself being tossed, just as he had noticed their target being tossed. Ensign Matola forced a smile. He turned back to his friend and nodded with reassurance, hoping to hide his fears.
"Man, that fake smile doesn't fool me. You're shitting your pants right now," Ensign Waters said, teasing his friend.
"I'm not wearing pants," Ensign Matola quipped.
"OK, ladies, enough hugs and kisses, get that basket ready. I want to be out of here in five," Lt. Davidson ordered.
The two ensigns worked together, preparing the body-length aluminum basket used in water rescue. Positioning it carefully at the door, they checked the fittings and the pulley system of the overhead winch, ensuring its smooth operation. As the helicopter drifted over the top of the man and hovered, they popped the door open. Instantly, a rush of loud, wet air slammed into the two ensigns, nearly knocking them from the feet. Undaunted, they both shoved the basket out the door and squared it up against the side of the helicopter, positioning it for the final drop to the ocean's surface.
Monitoring the systems and operation from the cockpit, Lt. Davidson kept a careful eye on their victim as he struggled in the violent waves. As the helicopter hovered fifty feet above, he could easily tell the man wasn't going to survive. Anxiety and fear swept through him as he spoke.
"He's under. Matola, hurry, that guy's not going to make it," Lt Davidson cried out.
He watched as the victim’s flailing body popped back up above the raging waters, only to be crushed once more with another tremendous wave.
A second later, a flood of foam, water, and spray crashed into the man, flinging him over the top of the float and depositing him on the other side in a lifeless heap. For a moment, they all held their breath as they watched him sink slowly below the water. Like a slow motion movie, they watched in amazement, as he seemed to reach up through the surface, clench the air and pulled him head above the water once again.
"God damn, that is one tenacious bastard," Ensign Matola yelled out over the roar of the engines.
"Holy Shit. What the hell is that?" Lt. Davidson called out in shock and amazement.
"I think it's an airplane float, sir," Ensign Waters replied immediately, as he stared down at their victim in horror, then added, "Looks like he made some kind of outrigger for it too."
Watching the man sink below the surface once more, Lt. Davidson yelled to the two ensigns, "He's under again, drop that basket, now!"
"There's no time. He's a goner. Commander, get me closer. I’m jumping in," Ensign Matola called out.
"Descending!" Lt. Cmdr. Briggs reported loudly.
Instantly, the helicopter surged downward, dropping ten feet in the process. Before it had a chance to stabilize, Ensign Matola leaped out the door. The fall to the ocean felt high — higher than the thirty feet he actually traveled. Splashing into the dark, foamy water, he sank beneath the surface nearly fifteen feet, then kicking his fins wildly, he swam back up and broke out on the top.
Instantly, a succession of angry waves crashed over the top of him and the foam and spray shoved him further away from the man’s position. With his adrenaline now pumping hard, Ensign Matola dug deep and swam with fierce intensity, fighting the rush of water that continued to push him further from his target.
Thinking quickly, he dove below the surface and swam at a slight angle, down to where he thought the man might be. Seconds later, t
hrough the bed of foam and bubbles that hung just below the surface, he saw a grayish figure silhouetted by the search light above. In one terrific spurt of energy, Ensign Matola kicked and swam, carving his way through the dense, dark water, reaching him in seconds.
With his arm extended, he wrapped it around the man’s neck and hauled him to the surface, breaking through the waves by nearly a foot as his powerful legs kept up the pressure. Lying over on their backs, they floated momentarily as Ensign Matola gained his bearings.
Looking up, he saw the basket descend to his position. Steadying himself, he kept an eye on the waves and foam around him. Before he could react, a large wave crashed down in front of the float, capsizing it end over end and thrusting it in their direction. Ensign Matola quickly turned his back toward the incoming object as he tried to shield them both from the impact.
The float slammed into Ensign Matola, and he took the full force of the blow as he continued to hang onto his victim’s neck, holding his head above the water. The blow nearly knocked the wind out of him, and he instinctively kicked his fins against the flood of water, riding out the surge as he struggled to stay beneath the helicopter.
As the flow of current momentarily subsided, Ensign Matola felt the hard surface of the float against his back. Reaching over his shoulder, he found a firm grip on the outrigger and held on, using it to stabilize them as the basket continued to lower.
In seconds, as the wind blew violently, the basket slammed down into the float, slid off and splashed into the water beside them. Instinctively, the victim reached out, grabbed the rung on the basket, and pulled it close. With another large wave bearing down on the two, the man lifted his leg up into the basket. Ensign Matola placed his hand on the man’s side and with a tremendous push, shoved him into the long rectangular bucket.
Suddenly, a flood of water and foam slammed into the raft and over the top of them. Ensign Matola grabbed the basket and tightened his grip on the outrigger as the force of water threatened to separate the two. As the water momentarily receded, it surged again and threatened to capsize both the rescue basket and the float.
Ensign Matola wasted no more time. Looking up at Ensign Waters, he grinned and proudly displayed his "thumbs up" signal.
"You're going to be ok, buddy. Just relax. This ride’s on me," Ensign Matola yelled loudly over the thunderous noise of helicopter and waves.
Looking up, Jack watched the concentrated stare of the stranger above him. He felt the downward force of the wind from the rotor blades pressing on his face and the coolness that resulted from it. Turning his head, he watched the ocean slowly drift away and a sense of peace and serenity finally found its way into his subconscious. At last, he sensed he was safe.
Atlantis – Chapter 23
UNIVERSITY OF MIAMI HOSPITAL, MIAMI FLORIDA:
Moses Rankin strutted with determination as he walked down the busy hallway. Following close behind, Serena and Javier Arista scanned the numbers to each hospital room as they past.
"Boy, Moses, you'd think your pants were on fire with the way you're moving. I didn't know an old guy like you could move so fast," Javier teased.
"Lucky for you I have a purpose, otherwise I'd have to give you a good kick in the seat," Moses shot back.
"I think that's his room just up there on the right," Serena pointed.
"Three oh eight, yup, that's the one," Moses responded.
As the three turned into the quiet hospital room, there in a hospital bed was Jack, soundly sleeping. At first, the three had trouble identifying him. Lying in his bed, he looked a frightening mess. He had a wide corset wrapped around his waist to protect his ribs. His body was bright red in color from the sunburn and he had blisters covering his face, shoulders, and arms. His lips were deeply cracked and still appeared to be bleeding and his face was gaunt and emaciated. With so many bruises covering his body, he took on the appearance of a leopard.
As the initial shock of Jack's physical appearance wore off, the three introduced themselves to his parents seated by his bedside.
"Hi, you must be Jack's parents. I'm Javier Arista, the archaeologist working with Jack before he went missing," Javier said softy, walking over and extending his hand in greeting.
Standing and shaking hands, Jack's father replied, "I'm David Roberts and this is Jack’s mom, Beverly."
"This is my daughter, Serena," Javier said. Turning to Jack's bed, he added, "And that cantankerous old coot hovering over Jack is Moses Rankin, the man responsible for Jack's rescue."
Moses turned from Jack and shook David Roberts’ hand. "Eh, Javi exaggerates. The damn Coast Guard's responsible. I can't take credit for that."
"From what I heard, you supplied the PLB (personal locator beacon) that allowed the Coast Guard to find him. We are eternally in your debt," David Roberts said, energetically shaking Moses' hand.
"Yeah, the PLB. Damn kid almost didn't take it. I had to force it down his throat," Moses said.
"Moses!" Serena blurted out in mild shock.
"Oh, sorry. The dang kid is what I meant to say," Moses responded.
"It's ok. Jack can be quite independent at times as you've probably guessed," Jack's father replied in good humor.
"No guessing at this point. Anyway, we're sure glad he made it through,” Javier cut in.
"So how's he doing?" Serena asked.
"Well, as you can see, he's a little worse for wear. In addition to severe dehydration, his body was pretty well beat up from spending nineteen days at sea. He suffered a multitude of fractures in his ribs and his sunburns are second degree, covering nearly forty percent of his body. His kidneys nearly shut down and now they’re monitoring his other organs for any signs of damage,” Jack's mom said.
“Oh my God, is he going to be ok?” Serena asked.
“I know that all sounds pretty bad, but the doctor assured me that he’s going to be alright, all things considered. They’re pumping him full of fluids, along with other medications, so he should respond fairly quickly the doctor told us," Jack's dad added.
Softly, Serena laid her hand on the sheet that covered his legs. Touching his shin through the sheet, she could feel the heat of his sunburn radiating off them. Jack's eyes parted slightly and he winced in pain. Immediately, Serena pulled her hand away and Jack opened his eyes fully and smiled at his visitors.
"Hey, everyone," Jack said in a low, raspy voice. "So nice to see you. Sorry for all the trouble."
Serena could hear the pain in his voice as he labored to speak.
"It's ok, Jack. You don't have to speak. We're all just glad you're alive," Serena replied.
"You gave me one hell of a scare there, Jack. Glad to see that first aid kit came in handy," Moses cut in, now moving closer to Jack's bedside. "By the way, you owe me three hundred bucks."
"Moses! Honestly, what are we going to do with you?" Serena protested.
"Same thing you always do, scold me and tell me I'm incorrigible," Moses shot back. Turning to Jack, he continued, "Boy, I'm just amazed you survived those storms. They must have been rough."
“He's always been mentally tough. A chip off the ol’ block,” Jack's father cut in proudly.
"Fortunately, his father kept all that modesty for himself," Jack's mother retorted, bumping her elbow into his side in a playful tease.
"Did Jack ever tell you about his climbing adventure to Peru?" Jack's father asked of the three, undaunted by the previous comment.
"David, I'm sure the Aristas and Mr. Rankin don't need to hear you brag about every little detail of Jack's life," Jack's mother said to his father.
"Actually, that's one of the things that intrigued me about Jack. Once I pried it out of him, he told me the whole story about him building his float plane and flying down to Peru to climb that unknown mountain. I was riveted the whole time. He's like a real life Indiana Jones," Javier added.
"It would make for a great Hollywood movie," David said to Javier, still beaming with pride.
"Hollywood'
s fiction would be nothing compared to Jack's real life videos he shot during the trip. You can only imagine a mother's reaction to seeing her child almost crashing into a canyon ridge," Beverly said to Javier, holding her chest, feigning losing her breath. "I could have killed him," she added jokingly.
"He never mentioned he had video footage of that trip. Wow, I'd be interested in seeing that," Javier replied, his voice growing louder.
"The scariest thing though, was that slide over the glacier and then the free fall into the canyon to try and start his engine. Watching those enormous trees at the bottom rushing up at you was pretty scary," David said to Javier, reinforcing the intensity of the experience.
"Again, Jack told me about it, but he never mentioned he had videos of that actual experience. When this is all done, we're going to have to sit and watch a few of them," Javier said sincerely.
"So Jack, what the hell happened out there anyway?" Moses asked, cutting in.
Jack looked across to his feet at the end of the bed. As he wiggled his toes, he tried to recall the previous days’ events. His mind was cloudy at first, but as he spent more time remembering, he began to pull the details from his memory. He took a deep breath and started.
"Well, the best I can deduce from all of this is a pod of whales sank my float plane," he said, still staring at his feet.
"Whales?" Serena exclaimed. "I've lived on Turks my whole life and never heard of a single incident of aggressive whales attacking anything. That's one for the history books."
"Yeah, I've been on Turks for many years and heard about all kinds of sinkings, but never one from a whale," Moses added.
"So what happened?" Jack's father asked, impatiently.
"Well, after I had landed and was preparing to dive, a large group of whales swam by. Amazingly, one of the babies actually swam close and looked at me," Jack said, his voice slowly growing stronger as he spoke.
"I've never actually seen one, but they say you can see the intelligence in their eyes," Serena offered.
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