Oracle--Sunken Earth

by C. W. Trisef

It was all Paige and the Coopers could do to stand idly on deck and watch in nervous helplessness. They didn’t dare retaliate for fear of harming Pauline who was so strategically affixed to the bow of the speedboat. With every round of enemy fire, the trio was naturally inclined to shield themselves, although it soon became clear that Stone’s objective was not to destroy them but instead to knock out the yacht’s steering and propulsion systems.

  With the yacht now approaching the fringe of the bubbling sea, everyone braced for the unknown. When Ret leaned over the side of the boat for a closer look, he learned what Mr. Coy had meant when he instructed Ivan to engage the craft’s hover capabilities. In a flurry of mist, the yacht’s entire hull was enclosed by an inflatable skirt. A pair of enormous fans rose above the stern, sending air both behind the ship for propulsion as well as into the skirt for lift. With a proportionate amount of air escaping through holes in the bottom of the skirt, the yacht was suddenly hovering above the sea. Ret and the girls smiled in amazed relief as they remained afloat despite entering the bubbling waters.

  “Don’t stop until you are safely on the other side, Ivan,” Mr. Coy said as he stepped out of the control room. “Follow me, Ret,” he said, throwing one leg over the ship’s guardrail. “I’ll save the damsel and the redhead. You’re in charge of the other two goons.” He placed his subsuit’s mask over his face and fell overboard, plunging headfirst into the fizzing froth below.

  Just as Ret was about to dive in behind Mr. Coy, a startling image flashed before his mind’s eye. Like a single frame excised from a film reel, this singular scene caused Ret to shrink with sudden fear. A bubbling sea, a sinking ship, people in distress, billowing flames—was he seeing the past or the near future?

  “Mom!” Ana screamed as her mother’s squirming body slowly began to disappear under the waves. While the yacht continued to glide smoothly across the boiling sea, the churning waters were steadily swallowing the speedboat. Realizing their plight, Quirk and Bubba abandoned ship while Principal Stone refused to succumb so quickly. Though futile, he continued to steer the wheel and rev the engine.

  “I’ve got to help them,” Ret said bravely.

  “Be careful,” Paige admonished, grabbing his hand. Ret smiled at Paige, then Ana, and overboard he went.

  The visibility underwater was nil. With bubbles bouncing every whichway, it was like wading in a tank filled with jellyfish. As Ret headed in the general direction of the sunken speedboat, he wished he could swim faster. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a small propeller extended from the outside of each heel of his subsuit like gadgets on a Swiss Army knife. Now cutting through the water like a shark, he arrived at the scene in no time. As the bow of the speedboat was now fully submerged, Ret could discern between the bubbles that Pauline had been liberated. A quick glance upward revealed several pairs of dangling legs. When Ret reached the surface, he found Pauline and Bubba holding on to Mr. Coy for dear life, with Quirk struggling to stay afloat nearby. They all had their attention focused on the doomed speedboat.

  “Jump, Stone!” Bubba shouted.

  “You’re too—young to—die, old man!” Mr. Quirk sputtered, occasionally dipping beneath the waves. Though obviously distressed, Stone refused their invitations.

  “I’m not going to die!” Stone asserted. The boat’s engine was now smoking from his useless attempts to force himself out of his bind.

  “If you don’t join us now,” Mr. Coy said, “we’re all going to die. This water is loaded with methane, and any minute now it’s going to make contact with your engine and blow this whole place to Timbuktu!”

  “I’ve always wanted to go there,” Quirk remarked as Ret arrived at his side to buoy him up. With haste, Stone turned around and watched in terror as the tremulous ocean waves danced dangerously close to the compartment housing the speedboat’s engine. He abandoned ship and swam to the safety of Ret’s arm. Lying face-down in the water, Mr. Coy and Ret skimmed across the sea like jet skis, both with each arm linked to their human jetsam.

  The rescue party hadn’t traveled far, however, when their worst nightmare became a reality as the pervasive methane finally made contact with the speedboat’s engine, still running as it sank. First, they saw the scene in front of them light up with the reflection of the inferno; then they heard the deafening explosion that seemed to cause time to stand still for a moment. Still at a dangerously far distance from the end of the bubbling sea where the yacht was waiting for them, they were in a tight race with death by incineration. Ret and Mr. Coy must have made the same wish—namely, to make a quicker getaway—because underneath both of them a kind of sleek surfboard elongated itself from their subsuits’ utility belts, greatly reducing their friction and, thus, increasing their speed. Still, Ret began to fret as he watched a wall of fire, both under and above sea level, fast approaching them. Soon, they found themselves rising with the sea as the initial explosion’s shockwave caught up to them. With flames licking their feet, Mr. Coy and Ret surfed the wave and rode it safely out of the treacherous sea towards the yacht.

  “Are you okay?” Ana asked urgently as the recovery team boarded the yacht, though she was obviously addressing her mother.

  “A bit singed,” Mr. Coy replied, unaware that Ana was not talking to him, “but fine otherwise.”

  While everyone else was distracted, Principal Stone quietly tiptoed away from the group, remembering that his rescuers were also his captors.

  “Where are you going, Principal Stone?” Ret asked, grabbing him tightly by the arm. All eyes turned to him, many of which glared with anger.

  “Lock ‘em in the brig!” Coy instructed, once again speaking like a pirate. Ret and the girls used their subsuits to visibly arm themselves as they gladly escorted their prisoners to their cells below deck.

  “Impossible!” Coy stated as he helped a weary Pauline to her cabin. “How could Stone have possibly known where we were?”

  Pauline’s head hung low in shame. “I told them,” she confessed softly. Mr. Coy’s look of shocked indignation demanded an explanation. “That evil man tricked me,” she said in tears. “He lied to me. He used me to get information. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I see it now.” She’d be a fool not to, Mr. Coy wanted to say as he rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry; I should have trusted you from the beginning, but you’re just so—so odd.” Mr. Coy wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of that but didn’t interrupt the sobbing woman. “I’m just a parent who wants to protect her children. I’m sure you know how that goes, Ben.”

  “Ben?” Mr. Coy mouthed silently in disgust. He was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable.

  “It’s been so hard for me ever since Jaret disappeared,” Pauline continued. “We were so in love. He meant the world to me, just as I’m sure your wife does to you.”

  “Uh,” Mr. Coy stuttered awkwardly, “um, yes.”

  “Paige speaks very highly of her mother,” Pauline said. “I would love to meet her sometime. Maybe when we get back home, we can—”

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” Coy said coldly, cutting Pauline off abruptly.

  “Why not?” Pauline asked. “Is she sick?”

  “No.”

  “Does she work?”

  “No.”

  “Is she afraid of people?”

  “No!” Coy answered emphatically.

  “Then, Ben, I don’t see any reason why she and I can’t—”

  “Polly want a cracker?” Coy asked.

  “Excuse me?” Pauline asked in confusion as she stepped into her cabin.

  “Polly want a cracker?” he asked again.

  “No—”

  “Then get off my shoulder!” Mr. Coy slammed the door of Pauline’s cabin. While she was still standing in shock at Mr. Coy’s rudeness, he opened the door just long enough to add, “And stop calling me Ben!”

  * * * * *

  Ret was on his way out of the main deck’s fitness room when he found Paige leaning over the side of the yacht, staring out t
o sea. Laden with sweat from his workout, he said a quick ‘hi’ and hurried past her, but she called out to him.

  “Hey, Ret,” she said. He stopped. Paige stepped towards him. “I just wanted to tell you that what you did today was really brave.”

  Flattered, Ret smiled. “Thanks,” was all he could think to say. A sudden gust of salty air blew a strand of Paige’s blond, curly hair in front of her face. As Ret waited for her to move it out of the way, he was taken aback by how striking she looked. Her features may have just seemed more vibrant against the backdrop of black smoke still billowing above the recently-ignited, bubbling sea in the distance, but Ret was somewhat awestruck by the beauty of the girl who was always in Ana’s shadow. When Paige made no motion to fix her hair, Ret slowly raised his right hand to push it back behind her ear. Before he could do so, however, he felt a familiar sensation in the palm of his hand.

  “What is it?” Paige questioned as Ret took back his hand.

  “It’s that feeling from the helicopter trip,” he explained, “the one that feels like magnets.”

  “That must mean we’re close,” Paige concluded with eagerness. They rushed to inform the others.

  When everyone had assembled in the captain’s quarters, Mr. Coy addressed them with final instructions. “This is as far as my ship can take us,” he told them. “We will swim the remaining distance to the underwater road. Each subsuit is equipped with an intercommunications system that will allow us to speak to each other underwater; however, if the powerful electromagnetic field surrounding this region should cause interference, do exactly as I do.” Pauline looked a bit disconcerted as she tried to fit more comfortably in her skintight subsuit. “Furthermore, if we happen to pass through another wave of methane emissions, please do everything in your power not to think about—and thus conjure up—a flame.” Mr. Coy opened the cabin door and stepped onto the deck. “I’ll lead the way; Ivan will take up the rear.” Then he plunged into the sea, with Ret eagerly following close behind.

  It was with a hint of hesitation that Ana and Paige shuffled to the side of the yacht when, like at the top of a waterslide, their turn had arrived. Perhaps due to a trick of the mind, neither one of them had previously realized the prodigious and frightening mystery of the open ocean now that it was time for them to jump into it. The seawater, though clear, still shrouded what might be lurking beneath to greet them.

  But the girls’ reluctance paled in comparison to the qualms of Pauline. Even though her hair was still a bit damp from her recent swim in the big blue, she was not at all anxious to join the escapade. In the end, however, it was her overarching concern for her children—as well as her lingering misgivings about their guide’s mental state—that pushed her over the edge and into the water.

  Ret, on the other hand, was thrilled to be back in the water. Now devoid of bubbles, he could fully appreciate the majesty of the underwater world. Painted in every shade of bright green and see-through blue, the Bahamian waters were as clean and clear as glass, full of life and color. Ret marveled at how the submerged world appeared to mimic life on dry land: schools of fish flitted freely like flocks of birds; weeds and grasses swayed peacefully in the waves like trees and bushes in the breeze; crustaceans crawled in the sand like rodents rummaging in the dirt. The sunken world seemed but a continuation of the terrestrial, more alike than different. What impressed Ret most, however, was submarine life’s choice to adapt to the circumstances given them: instead of changing their world, they changed themselves.

  “The road is up ahead,” Mr. Coy’s voice was heard through each subsuit’s intercom. Now much less than a mile from the shore of the nearby island of Bimini, the ocean bottom had risen steadily until they were swimming in water scarcely deeper than a dozen feet. Even though the water temperature rivaled a warm bath, with some pockets warmer than others, the landscape had changed dramatically, its plants sparser and fish fewer.

  “What happened to all the fish?” Ret wondered aloud.

  “Maybe they got scared off by a shark!” Ana teased.

  “Good grief,” Pauline sighed worriedly, looking around just to make sure.

  Ret was right: the whole scene had quickly turned dull and boring. The plants, now long and spindly, languidly swayed in pale hues of mostly weak orange and faint purple. The flat seafloor, barren and sand-covered, resembled some kind of underwater desert. Ret wondered if the sky’s puffy clouds had swallowed the hot sun, so overshadowed had their path become. He reasoned this would be one of the last places a diver would want to explore.

  “This is the hooked portion of the road,” Mr. Coy explained, pointing downward. “See how it curves?”

  “That’s the road?” Ret asked in disbelief. “It looks like just a bunch of rocks.”

  “Yeah, lame,” added Ana.

  Ana had a point. Without Mr. Coy’s watchful eye, the others would have passed directly over the sunken road, never even noticing it. The pale blocks rose a mere one or two feet from the ground, much less than Ret had anticipated. Covered in sand, the stones would have seemed nothing more than a rough strip of seafloor if they hadn’t been the only rocks on the bottom.

  “The part I want to show you is at the other end—at the top of the hook’s shaft,” said Mr. Coy. “Follow me.”

  Ret’s scar throbbed to the point of pain as they swam along the road. The sandstone blocks sat in impressive uniformity, resembling giant loaves of bread with their rounded edges. Though varying in length and width, the cobblestone-like road maintained the same height throughout, despite obvious signs of wear and erosion. As they made their way around the bend and up the shank of the hook-shaped road, Ret could hardly contain himself.

  “Here it is,” Mr. Coy said, pointing to a spot on the final stone at the top-end of the road. “The symbol.” Each in the party took turns examining the larger version of the tiny scar that was on both Ret’s hand and the Oracle.

  “Now what?” Ana asked.

  Ret swam up close to the block a second time. With his right hand, he wiped the rough surface of the rock with his fingers to remove some of the sand and dirt that had accumulated on the symbol. As he did so, he felt something pulling his hand toward the symbol. It was as if there was another magnet behind the symbol on the stone, attracting the ones that were repelling each other under the scar in his palm. Soon, Ret stopped resisting the attraction and placed his hand over the symbol.

  Ret waited for a few seconds, but nothing happened. As he slowly removed his hand, however, a stream of particles followed it. The granules of sand were the byproduct of something being etched into the surface of the stone just below the symbol. When it had finished, it was quite clear that the fresh markings were of the same nature as the curious characters on the parchment that Mr. Coy had filched from Principal Stone’s office.

  “What does it say?” Mr. Coy said urgently, asking the question that was on everyone’s lips.

  Ret studied the letters briefly and answered: “The road to Sunken Earth.”

  Even though they were floating, everyone could feel the sudden rumbling that started shaking everything around them. Probably reminded of their ill-fated helicopter ride, Pauline let out a shrill cry as the turbulence intensified. Then the group watched in awe as the entire expanse of the road in front of them began sinking into the ground. The set of stones directly behind the one that Ret was facing sunk into the seafloor, coming to rest when its top was level with where its bottom had just been. Then the next set of stones sunk in the same manner, though sinking even deeper until its tip was flush at the foot of the first sunken stones. With great rapidity, the road continued to sink, one pair of blocks at a time, each plunging further down than its predecessor. When the domino-like ripple had extended out of sight beyond the curve of the hook, the chasm looked somewhat like a descending staircase, though built for a giant. When the sand had finally settled, the startled divers looked down from their vista at the first step into the ominous blackness of the road that appeared to lead
into the belly of the earth.

  “Didn’t see that coming,” Ana remarked.

  “I’ve heard of stairway to heaven,” Mr. Coy said, trying to ease the tension that seemed to grip the group, “but this—this is a first, even for me.”

  Even though Ret was clearly the master key that was continuing to unlock the many latches on the door of this complex mystery, no one bothered to ask him how he felt about the situation or what their next course of action should be. But this was nothing new; he was unfailingly puzzled by his associates’ persistence in not seeking out his advice. He hoped their actions were involuntary. It wasn’t that Ret thought of himself as some grand source of knowledge; in fact, he somewhat enjoyed being ignored and certainly preferred not to be probed. Though not shy, Ret was an introvert who kept his thoughts and feelings to himself unless asked to share them—and, even then, he did so only partially. To be honest, this whole Oracle business was far outside his comfort zone, and he worried that he would have to vocalize his sentiments more often, even without being asked, rather than keep them caged within the impenetrable, yet safe, confines of his mind.

  Ret was the first one to swim beyond the first step. Mr. Coy promptly went next, followed by Paige and Ana side-by-side. Having had quite enough adventure for one day, Pauline was not exactly thrilled to go for a swim into a dark fissure at the bottom of the ocean, but she moved quickly so as not to be at the back of the line, consigning Ivan to bring up the rear.

  With each step, the light grew dimmer, the water felt colder, and the pressure became stronger. “In case your ears are buckling under the water pressure,” Mr. Coy instructed, “there is a mouthpiece inside the third compartment on the right side of your utility belt. Attach it to the roof of your mouth, and it will automatically regulate the air pressure within your middle ear by injecting air into the throat and up your Eustachian tubes.” Everyone gladly obeyed. “The mouthpiece also regulates pressure throughout the entire body, so in the event we reach extreme depths, it should prevent us from being crushed to death.”