by Brian Keene
“No, it’s not the press. This is something … different. I’m not sure who they are, to be honest. Spies from an intelligence service, or perhaps a rival corporation. Those seem to be the most likely suspects.”
“How do you know this? How do you know it’s under surveillance?”
“Because when my father ran afoul of Pinochet, he taught my entire family anti-surveillance techniques that I never forgot. Sometimes they come in quite handy.”
“Maybe so. But they also make you sound paranoid.”
“Perhaps. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. And I’m not.”
He said it in his brief, off-handed way that, at different times in her life, Carrie had seen as alternatingly smug, sexy, infuriating, or endearing. Now, she saw it as simply annoying. But despite her annoyance, Carrie was secretly relieved at Paolo’s relative cooperation, and the prospect of having him along below the surface.
She still wasn’t sure what she had seen on her last dive, but she knew that whatever it was, she didn’t want to be down there alone.
FOUR
Carrie arrived at the wharf the next morning. It was located in a less-trafficked, disused section of the harbor, surrounded by leaning tin shacks, vacant storage buildings whose outer walls were covered with graffiti and gray-black mildew, and decrepit marinas that looked ready to fall into the sea. It was a depressing, unwholesome sight, but it was also far away from the research flotilla, for which she was grateful. There was no chance of a reporter finding them here. Most of the press corps had indeed moved on to other parts of the world and other stories, leaving behind only a few stringers, all of whom were spending their time on the island, rather than at sea. Mindful of Paolo’s paranoid warning, she’d paid attention to her surroundings, making sure she wasn’t followed. Doing so had been disconcerting—but also exciting, like being in a spy movie.
A warm wind blew in from the water, bringing with it the smell of rotten fish and salt. Sunlight reflected off the sea in brilliant red, orange, and yellow hues. Carrie sighed, trying to ignore the stench and enjoy the simple breeze on her skin. She watched the colors stretch across the water, marveling at them. Even here, in this desolate armpit of a wharf, there was beauty. Carrie could almost pretend she was staring at a New England woodland in autumn rather than the Indian Ocean.
Then she thought about how dark the waters were below the surface, and how the colors wouldn’t reach there, and her momentary joy vanished.
Paolo and Abhi were already waiting for her when she arrived at the dock. The two men stood on the docks next to a few storage containers and a small boat. Abhi waved enthusiastically, and Paolo nodded a greeting. Waving back, Carrie paused to study the boat Abhi had obtained for them. It was a fourteen-foot zinc affair that looked weather-beaten and barely seaworthy. Abhi looked right at home next to the aged vessel, dressed in threadbare, faded cutoff shorts with a missing back pocket, and a blue and white Hawaiian shirt that barely covered his belly. Salt and pepper curls of chest hair stuck out from between the shirt’s buttons. Atop his head was a dirty ball cap emblazoned with a logo for Mercury Optimax motors. Paolo towered over the shorter man, and was dressed much like the day before, but this time his leather shoes had been replaced with open-toed sandals. Both men smiled as she approached. Abhi’s expression was broad and delighted, while Paolo’s was subdued and reserved.
“There she is,” Abhi exclaimed. “You are looking well, Carrie. That hospital stay must have agreed with you.”
“Thanks.” Carrie smiled. “Although that was not exactly the vacation I had in mind.”
Abhi shrugged. “Any time off is still time off. Some of us had to work while you were laying around in the hospital.”
“You work?” Carrie gave him a quick hug. “That’s new. I didn’t think you knew how to work.”
“Nonsense. The whole thing would fall apart without me.”
“Were you followed?” Paolo asked, interrupting their banter.
“No,” Carrie said. “I don’t think so. I took all the necessary precautions, just like you said. I still don’t understand why we’d be under surveillance though, or by who.”
“I would like to know that, as well,” Abhi agreed. “And I would also like to know why we’re meeting in secret, and just what you intend to do, Carrie. What have you gotten me into?”
“Nothing illegal, Abhi.”
“Then I am disappointed. Illegal is always more fun.”
“Is that why you make that illegal rotgut hooch?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abhi said, feigning mock protest. “I make deck cleaner and paint thinner. I am not responsible for what happens if someone drinks it.”
“Did you have any trouble getting all the equipment I asked for?”
Abhi shrugged. “Not much. We’ve got nothing electronic, just like you asked, except for some underwater communicators, and of course, the boat’s emergency radio and the engine components. Other than those, it’s all analog. Some of it wasn’t easy to get with such short notice. I had to call in a few favors. Make a few deals. Oh, and I may have borrowed a few items from the Novak, but I don’t think anyone will miss them. I’m hoping one of you will reimburse me for the boat, though?”
“I’ll make sure you get reimbursed.” Carrie eyed it skeptically. “Although, I hope you didn’t pay too much for it. This thing looks like it’s ready to sink.”
“I have to agree,” Paolo said. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Looks can be deceiving.” Abhi grinned, flashing tobacco and coffee-stained teeth. “It may be old, but it is sturdy. Like me. More importantly, it won’t attract attention.”
“Also like you,” Carrie quipped.
“The bends look good on you,” he teased, not missing a beat. “That rash is a particularly lovely color. It matches your eyes.”
“Ouch, Abhi!” Carrie said pretending to be offended.
Paolo remained unconvinced regarding the boat’s condition. “That outboard motor looks ready to … how do you say it? Give up the ghost? How do we know it’s not going to break down and leave us stranded out there?”
“That long-tail diesel may be worn,” Abhi said, “but it is solid. Trust me on that. I tested it myself. Took it apart and put it back together. It’s old and tough, like me. And besides, the boat also has a set of oars, just in case. Nothing electronic in those, for sure.”
“We might need them,” Carrie admitted.
“I’m telling you this motor is sound.”
“I believe you, Abhi. But so was the equipment on board the Novak, and we saw how well that worked.”
“Yeah, that’s true. So that’s what’s with all this analog stuff you had me get?”
Carrie nodded.
“Maybe it’s time you told us what you know, Carrie,” Paolo suggested.
“Okay,” Carrie agreed, “but I want to check our gear first.”
She opened the storage crates and took inventory of their contents—the underwater radios Abhi had mentioned, a toolbox, specimen scoops and sealed containers, two sealed wetsuits, dive weights, flippers, simple masks (in lieu of the analytical HUD helmet Carrie had dove with before), equipment belts, arm clips, two lengthy coils of dive line, two buoys, waterproof tape, a full case of phosphorescent torches, sunscreen, a case of bottled water, a large cooler packed with ice, two full twenty-gallon cans of diesel fuel for the motor, a first aid kit, a machete, and a Sudoku book. She frowned upon spying the last two items, and gave Abhi a quizzical look.
“That’s for me.” He shrugged. “I need something to do while the two of you go for a swim. I read in a magazine that people my age should do things like this to keep the dementia away. And I never cared for the Word Jumble.”
“And the machete?”
Abhi shrugged again. “You never know. Better to have one and not need it than to need one and not have it.”
Carrie smiled. “I think you’ve seen Jaws one too many times, Abhi.”
&nbs
p; “Perhaps you are right. But if Quint had done Sudoku, things would have ended much better for them, I’ll bet.”
They began to load the gear onto the small boat. The sun had risen higher and the day was starting to heat up. The stench of rotten fish and mildew that seemed to hang over the wharf grew stronger, but did nothing to dampen their spirits. Their laughter soon faded, however, as Carrie began to brief them on her theory.
“I saw something down there,” she said. “I don’t know what it was and I don’t know how to describe it. The water was dark, of course. But this … thing … was darker. I think Peter saw it, too, before he…”
Pausing, she stared out at the water, unable to find the right words to explain what she had seen. “It’s okay.” Abhi nodded in encouragement. “Go on.”
“I don’t know what it was, but I know it was real. It wasn’t my imagination. All I remember is a dark shape. But I think I know what’s ruining our electronics. There was some weird effect in the water, below about eighty meters.”
“What kind of effect?” Paolo asked.
“I’m not sure, but I experienced it myself when I left my suit. The same interference that shorted out our diving equipment played havoc on my body’s own nerve function as I swam for the surface.”
Paolo nodded, encouraging her to continue. “How so?”
“It’s … hard to explain. My arms and legs tingled, and then started to go numb. And I think I was hallucinating. I can’t be sure. But I definitely remember the numbness. It wasn’t painful. Indeed, it was the opposite of that. It was almost … calming? It seemed to spread through my whole body.”
“You weren’t scared?” Abhi asked.
“No.” Carrie shook her head. “That’s the thing. I should have been afraid. I should have been fucking terrified, but I wasn’t. I barely made it to the top, even with my background and training. And Peter? Well, Peter never stood a chance.”
Paolo stared at her intently. “And you don’t know what the source of it was?”
“No. I suspect it must be chemical. That seems to make the most sense. Some type of chemical that can impact both living beings and electronics.”
“Or perhaps it was just a simple blackout,” Paolo suggested. “Low oxygen in your brain. That seems more plausible to me.”
“I know what shallow-water blackout feels like, Paolo! It wasn’t that, or hypoxia, or any other bullshit excuse you want to suggest.”
“You just said that you hallucinated—”
“I did. But the cause wasn’t anything that I did. We did everything by the book. Peter was within an arm’s length at all times. We kept visual on each other. Everything was fine until our equipment malfunctioned. And we were still fine, even after it malfunctioned. It wasn’t until we slipped out of our suits that … we weren’t fine anymore.”
“Okay.” Paolo held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, Carrie. I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend.”
Seabirds squawked angrily overhead, swooping downward and bombarding the surface of the harbor, fighting over a school of tiny fish swimming near the surface. Occasionally, one of them flew back up, clutching a wriggling fish in its talons, and then greedily darted for the shore.
Carrie took a deep breath, calmed herself, and then continued.
“Obviously, we need equipment to truly study the collapse, but whatever this reaction is—it’s shorting our equipment out. So, what I propose is very simple. You and I will use basic scoops and containers to collect samples from as deep down the wall of the collapse as we can.”
“What sort of samples do you want to focus on?” Paolo asked.
“Whatever we can get—silt, rock, water, plants, even small organisms. We need enough to analyze in a lab.”
“What lab? We can’t use Alpinus, or they will know we did this without their approval.”
“Then we’ll enlist the NOAA,” Carrie said. “Or another lab—Scripps, UNOLS, Woods Hole, AOML, Proudman. Between the two of us, we’ve got contacts at each of them, and more. We could even take it to the Globe Corporation if we needed to.”
“I’m sure that would go over great with Alpinus. Hiring us to do the work and then we turn around and take it to their biggest competitor?”
“Consider it a last resort. And besides, at the very least this will allow us to determine how to proof our scientific instruments and electronic gear against whatever is contaminating the water. I have to think Alpinus and the NOAA will both be interested in that information, regardless of how we initially obtained it.”
“Perhaps,” Paolo agreed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“It doesn’t matter who the United Nations sends out here to investigate. The same thing will happen to their equipment that happens to ours. We’ve seen that already. Even the press corps were experiencing problems with their gear. You were worried about your reputation, Paolo?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Well, then this is the best way to make sure your reputation remains in good standing. We collect samples, analyze them, find out for sure what’s causing the interference, and then figure out a way to prevent it for further expeditions. We’ll be heroes once again.”
“I still am a hero,” Abhi joked.
Paolo watched the seagulls circle and wheel and squawk for a moment. When he turned back to her, his expression was skeptical.
“I do not believe you are being entirely truthful with us, Carrie. You are a good person, yes, but I have never known you to be this altruistic. At least, not to this degree. And especially not when there’s no paycheck forthcoming.”
“You’re right.” She sighed, pushing the bangs from her eyes. She was already starting to sweat in the morning heat. “It’s not my only reason for wanting to do this.”
“Then why else?”
“Because of what I saw … or what I think I saw. And because I owe it to Peter. And because whatever this is—it nearly beat me. I don’t like that.”
Paolo’s smile was smug. “So you intend to conquer it? This mysterious force of nature?”
Carrie shrugged. “You know me.”
“I do indeed. You like to win.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I don’t mean it to be,” Paolo replied. “Indeed, I have always admired your determination. It was one of the things that first drew me to you … back then. But this is different, Carrie.”
“May I say something?” Abhi interrupted.
They both turned to him.
“What’s up?” Carrie asked.
“I know I’m just a glorified boatswain’s mate, but it seems to me that if something in that water is capable of interfering with top-of-the-line analytical equipment, robots, and gear—including, apparently, the central nervous system of human beings—then it might not be a great idea to swim there, no?”
Paolo laughed. “Have no worries, Abhi. You have procured two good wetsuits for us, and a good wetsuit will protect us from anything.”
Out over the water, the sea birds continued to shriek and feed.
FIVE
With Abhi guiding the boat, they motored up to a location about five miles offshore and one hundred fifty meters above the collapsing ridge. The ocean here was full of silt and sand. Even the waves seemed choked with it.
“Are you sure about this?” Abhi asked, eyeing the surface. “It seems to me like you’d be swimming in sandpaper.”
“We’ll be fine,” Carrie assured him. “Most of it sinks right to the bottom. It will impact our visibility, for sure, but that’s all.”
Paolo and Carrie drank several bottles of water each, determined to stay hydrated. Even though it was still early in the morning, the sun already squatted overhead, pulsating like a blister ready to burst. It reflected off the water, making them squint. All three were bathed in sweat. When Carrie licked her lips to moisten them, she tasted salt and brine.
Abhi killed the motor. The boat rocked gently on the waves, the hull creaking with the movement. T
he wind seemed to die off, suddenly, which only increased the brutal heat. Abhi busied himself by applying sunscreen to his nose and ears. It glistened on the fine hairs protruding from both.
“I’m glad I remembered to bring an umbrella,” he said, squinting up at the sun. “It’s going to be brutal today.”
“Why don’t you get it out?” Carrie asked.
“Maybe later.”
Carrie frowned. “I know that look. What are you hiding, Abhi?”
Sighing, the older man rummaged through the gear, and then produced an umbrella. When he opened it, Carrie and Paolo erupted in laughter at the image of SpongeBob SquarePants emblazoned across it.
“I picked it up at the Dollar Store on the way here,” Abhi explained. “All they had was this or Barbie.”
“If you get too hot,” Carrie said, “cool off in the water.”
Abhi blanched. “No, thank you. I’m staying right here on the boat.”
Carrie and Paolo prepped for their dive, slipping into their sealed wetsuits and flippers. Abhi and Paolo made an exaggerated effort to look away while Carrie changed, which made her smile. She and Paolo stored their clothes, phones, and personal items in a storage crate. Then, Abhi secured one end of each of the dive lines to the boat while the two divers strapped on their arm clips and belts.
“Shouldn’t you hyperventilate or something?” Abhi asked. “Get extra oxygen into your bloodstream before you dive?”
“No,” Carrie said. “That’s the last thing we want to do. Hyperventilating can make you pass out, and anything other than normal breathing messes with the carbon dioxide levels in your blood.”
With a grunt, Abhi unspooled the dive lines and watched them sink below the surface.
“That water is pretty murky,” he said. “Even with the sunlight hitting it. How are you going to see anything down there?”
“Visibility will be limited,” Carrie admitted, “like I said before. But we can carry the phosphorescent torches on our belts and then affix them to our arm clips as we gather the samples. And we’ll keep each other in sight at all times. Right, Paolo?”