by Johnny Shaw
“Yeah,” Ricky answered. He fixed the mask, and when he was confident that it wasn’t leaking, he looked forward.
He had swum right into a building. Or what was left of one. It wasn’t much, but it was a short stack of bricks. Enough to represent the corner of a structure.
“I found a building, I think.”
“He found a building,” Harry said. “I told you, Frank. Give me a second, Ricky. I got to see where you’re at.”
Ricky ran his finger along the mortar lines of the wall. He swam slowly along what would have been the outside. Reaching a gap which he assumed used to be a doorway, Ricky pretended to knock, then swam into the roofless and almost wall-less structure.
“Maybe the general store. Maybe the claims office. Could have been both. But I’d be guessing. Either way, you’re at the west end of town,” Harry said.
Ricky brushed his hand on the sandy bottom. Under the sand, he found wood. His fingernail easily dug into it like it was liquid. Small pieces of sawdust floated away. Running his hand through the sand, he found the head of a rusted pickaxe, the handle no longer intact.
“I found a pick. Just the top.”
“Okay. I got three possibles for Constance’s house. There weren’t many private residences, so I’ve narrowed it pretty good. Head to the northeast. I’ll tell you when you get closer.”
“Rodger Dodger, Mr. Rogers.”
“I think the oxygen is going to your head,” Harry said, but he laughed with him.
Ricky held onto the head of the pickaxe, glanced at his compass, and exited the building. He didn’t bother to use the doorway, but swam over what was left of the short wall.
“If my maps are worth a darn, you should be heading straight into town.”
But Ricky barely heard him and didn’t need the newsflash. He was stopped and staring in awe at the town church looming in front of him.
Though he could only see the building’s façade in the haze of the water, the church appeared to be almost completely intact. It was a small building with no roof, but the steeple appeared undamaged and there was a wooden cross nailed above the front door. It was the most magnificent sight Ricky had ever seen.
“Ricky? You there?” Harry’s voice crackled.
“I’ve got to check this out.”
“What? Do you see something?”
“What day is it? Is today Sunday?”
“What’re you doing? What’s going on? Remember, you only have so much air. Fewer trips, the better. Ricky?”
Ricky hit the button on the side of his mask and turned off the communication device. The murky silence made his heart skip.
Ricky swam to the church. He pulled at the doors, but they wouldn’t budge. A foot of sand blocked them at the base. He brushed the sand away with his hand, shoveling handfuls until the door was clear. He pulled it open and entered into the darkness of the abandoned temple.
Ricky swept the flashlight through the building. Everything was still. The pews, the altar, even one of the leaded-glass windows remained unbroken. There was a spot for a crucifix on the wall behind the altar, but it appeared to have been saved from the flood. In the foggy darkness, the building looked museum-pristine. Ricky half expected to see a congregation face-forward listening to some hellfire and screaming hallelujah.
Ricky crossed himself and awkwardly genuflected before he swam slowly down the middle aisle. It felt funny in the full scuba gear, but this was still a church. It occurred to him that he hadn’t prayed since the bus accident.
A bloated book rested on one of the pews, the front board and page edges fish-chewed. Ricky set down the pickaxe and picked up the book. He had assumed it was a Bible, but the faded gilt lettering revealed it to be an old hymnal. The pages floated open, music staves and notes flipping past. The pages stopped where the binding was cracked in the center of the spine. The title of the hymn was “City of Gold.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ricky said.
He looked to the front of the church. For a second he thought he heard an organ. The faint sound of singing children. He ran the light over the corners of the building. But the silent music played only in his head.
Ricky made an effort to sit down, but the cylinder on his back didn’t allow it. He returned to the aisle, his flippered feet spread apart for balance. He dropped some weight from his belt until his feet lifted from the floor. He floated upward. For a moment he forgot he was in the water and felt like he was being lifted to heaven.
He scanned the words of the hymn. He looked to his left and right, suddenly self-conscious. Then in the quiet of the underwater chapel, he sang, his voice just above a whisper.
There’s a city that looks o’er the valley of death,
And the glories can never be told;
There the sun never sets, and the leaves never fade,
In that beautiful city of gold.
There the King, our Redeemer, the Lord Whom we love,
All the faithful with rapture behold;
There the righteous forever shall shine as the stars,
In that beautiful city of gold.
Every soul we have led to the foot of the cross,
Every lamb we have brought to the fold,
Shall be kept as bright jewels our crown to adorn,
In that beautiful city of gold.
At the end of the song, Ricky reread the lyrics. He closed the book, set it on the pew next to him, and patted the cover softly. He looked straight up into the murk above the roofless church.
“I hear you.”
Ricky bowed his head and silently prayed. And for the first time in a long time, he knew that God was listening.
EIGHTEEN
It had been ten minutes since Ricky’s communication device had disconnected, and everyone on the boat was concerned. Well, not everyone. Bernardo and Ramón were too high to care. Ricky had plenty of air, but the GPS unit hadn’t shown any movement since the silence began. He had not moved at all.
They had no contingency for this kind of thing. He could be stuck, trapped, unconscious, worse. The most they could do was wait impotently.
They had another wet suit, weight belt, a full cylinder, mask, and all the necessary equipment for another dive. But they didn’t have anyone that could—or rather, would—do it. So much for the buddy system. Ricky wasn’t even supposed to be in the water in the first place.
“Try the radio thing again. Turn some damn dials,” Frank said. “Maybe it’s on the wrong frequency or set wrong.”
“There’s only one frequency,” Harry said. “It either got damaged or the kid turned it off. Maybe he hit his head again. He sounded a little weird. Like he was confused, asking what day it was. I read about something called nitrogen narcosis. Makes you goofy, like nitrous, laughing gas.”
“Has he moved?”
Harry shook his head. “Still in the same spot. Exactly where he was.”
“Maybe he found something? Maybe he’s digging?”
“Let’s hope. I ain’t as weirded out by the not talking as I am by the not moving. He could be stuck or knocked out or who knows.”
“We have to do something.”
“What? We’re up here and he’s down there. If you got a plan, spill.”
“One of us has to go.”
“This conversation has been had. The Wonder Twins are scared of the water, I got a busted leg, and you’re old as Moses.”
Frank thought about it for a while. “To hell with it. Old people skin-dive. I’ve seen it in travel brochures I get in the mail. Old-lady snorkelers. Like in Miami. Apparently, fogies move good in water. Ricky needs our help.”
“Are you serious?”
“I might got cancer, but I’m strong and mean and I could beat your ass, no doubt in my mind. The exercise’d be good for me. Here’s what, you fellas tie a towline to my waist. You can drag my old butt back up if need be.”
“I love it. Let’s do this,” Harry shouted. He slapped Frank’s back hard enough to hurt.<
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Frank turned to his grandsons, who were stretched out on the deck. They passed a joint between them and pointed out clouds that looked like penises to each other.
Frank said, “You heard him. Let’s get Ricky.”
Bernardo put the joint out on his tongue and stowed the roach in his front shirt pocket. He got up slow and wobbly, getting his marijuana legs.
“Wait,” Harry shouted.
“What?” Frank turned.
“He’s moving. The kid’s moving.”
Harry showed him the GPS unit. Sure enough, the icon for Ricky was moving slowly east. Bernardo sat back down, relighting the joint. Ramón gave him a light slap on his shoulder and pointed at a particularly phallic cloud. It even had cloud balls.
Harry glanced at his watch. “Now let’s hope he remembers to check his air.”
Ten minutes later, Ricky resurfaced. The brightness of the sunlight seemed unreal after the relative darkness of the deep lake. He imagined it wasn’t that much different from being born.
The first thing he did when he got back on the boat was vomit all over Harry. The abrupt change of environment and the rocking of the boat threw off his equilibrium. It was a new world to him, one that took some adjustment.
Harry shook it off. “You’d be surprised at how often that happens to me. I’m like a puke magnet. Least you didn’t take a dump on me.”
Harry grabbed the face mask away from Ricky, looking at the communication controls on the side.
“What the hell happened to your walkie thing?”
“I turned it off,” Ricky said.
“We thought you were trapped. Hurt. This isn’t some toy to tell jokes to each other. It’s there to keep you alive. Where’s your brain?” Harry’s face was beet red, his breathing dramatic.
“I’m sorry, okay? I can’t explain, but it was important. It was spiritual.”
Harry was about to say something, but Ricky stopped him.
“Let’s not waste more time. Get me another tank. I’m ready to go back down. Now I know that we’re going to find what we’re looking for.”
Ricky’s excitement immediately doused the flames of Harry’s anger.
Harry nodded and walked back to his maps. “Keep the walkie on this time.”
While Bernardo and Ramón prepped Ricky’s equipment, Ricky gave Frank and Harry a report on what he had seen. Everything after the church. He didn’t mention the church. The church was his.
“The water’s all filmy and dirty, but when you get all the way down, when you get into the town, it clears up. Like it’s saying, ‘Come on in.’ Amazing how much is still there. Whole bunch of buildings. Most ain’t got roofs or nothing, but it’s a town. I went inside what was definitely a school. Blackboard, but no writing on it. One building had a sign said it was the post office. And plenty of saloons.
“Like out of a movie. Like it don’t belong in real life. When you’re up in the higher water, it’s hard to tell where you’re at. When you close your eyes, there’s no up. But not in town. The buildings make you forget the water. It’s awesome. Like I’m seeing something no one’s seen. A place nobody ain’t never gone.
“I was swimming and thinking how special this place is, you know? Maybe when we’re all done, I can come back and take Rosie, my girl, down there. Not now, but in a couple of years. When she’s older. When she can swim. When she’d appreciate it. It could be our place.
“Anyway, I tooled around. Got the lay of the land. The buildings are built along a line. Outbuildings, or what’s left of them, behind. But main buildings right in a row. Show me that map you got there and we’ll figure out where that buried stuff is buried.”
For the next fifteen minutes, they compared Ricky’s visual description, the GPS path that he had taken, and Harry’s maps. Harry had been right on the money. The school, the post office, the mill, and a few of the saloons, everything was where Harry thought it would be.
That left the three possible locations for Abraham Constance’s house. Now that Ricky had landmarks, he could easily follow Harry’s directions. They were confident that once Ricky got back to looking, he would be looking in the right place.
NINETEEN
The first location yielded nothing. The wooden floor of the underwater ruin had given easily, as did the soft dirt underneath. The digging left Ricky in a cloud of gray silica and dirt. After two feet, he hit rock and stopped digging. Anyone trying to hide something in a hurry wouldn’t bother with pick work.
Ricky grew comfortable under the water, his movements fluid and his confidence growing. While the gear limited him, he found that it gave him a range of motion different from land. Even his dead arm had some function. He swam past a few buildings, one with a semi-intact porch that looked inviting. He tried to imagine the people that had sat there. Drinking their lemonade or whiskey and gossiping. They were all long dead, but they still had stories to tell.
“You’re almost there. Maybe twenty yards. On your left.”
“You’re really missing out, Harry. It’s like another planet.”
“Maybe we’ll all come back. You know, if this thing works out. Do it in style.”
“Do a victory dance right down Main Street. Have ourselves an underwater hoedown at the dance hall.”
Harry broke in. “Sure, sure. Keep your eyes out. You’re right on it.”
“I see the building. What’s left of it. Looks like a card house that froze while falling down.”
Two of the wood-and-mortar walls had collapsed inward. They had fallen against each other in such a way that one propped the other up. It looked precarious. But the way Ricky figured it, if he didn’t disturb it, it wouldn’t disturb him. It had probably been that way for decades. No reason to think that today would be the day it fell.
“Can you get inside?”
“I got some angles. Maybe from the top. The center room is right under the busted walls.”
“How about the third location? You can always come back if the other building’s a wash.”
“I’m here. I’m going to take a look.”
Ricky swam around the perimeter of the building to get his bearings. The walls, while weathered and chipped, appeared solid enough. The thought of being underneath them still didn’t make him happy, but it was a matter of faith. As long as he believed, he would be okay. And at the moment, he felt invincible.
He swam into the collapsing building from above, settling in under the slanted walls. It got deep dark outside of the range of the flashlight. The open area, what probably would have been the front room of the house, was small with only a broken chair tucked in a corner.
As Ricky turned, a school of thick-scaled fish scared the hell out of him. They were the first fish he had seen, and twenty or so swam right at him. A couple bounced off his arms and one off his mask.
“Holy hell!”
“You okay?”
“Fish. Just fish. Ugly things. Came right at me.”
“Yeah, there’s piranha everywhere down there. Forgot to warn you.”
“Seriously? Piranha?”
“Of course not, I’m messing with you.” Harry’s laughing voice grew muffled. “Hey, Frank. You hear that? Told the kid to watch out for piranha. He believed me.”
“I’m going to start digging.”
“Come up before we check the third building. Get fresh gear, a full tank.”
“Unless I find it here. Then we’re done.”
“Let’s hope.”
Ricky had learned through trial and error at the first location. It was all about layers. Remove the sand and dirt slowly. Take a minute to let it resettle. The wood next, either by whole board or cutting through the waterlogged pieces. Finally, dig into the dirt until it got hard enough to no longer make sense.
After Ricky had removed the surface layer of sand, he was surprised to see a rug covering the center of the floor. It was on its last legs, but the faded red appeared bright against the dull grays and browns. The rug disintegrated in his hand wh
en he tried to pick it up, small fibers and string polluting the water around him. The floorboards beneath the rug were wide, and Ricky saw no nails holding them down. Even in the ruined state of the building, it looked like a job unfinished.
As he lifted a floorboard, sand clouded around his ankles. Not from the board, but from behind him. He felt the force of the water on his back pushing him forward like a strong gust of wind. There was no sound, only pressure. Convinced the walls were coming down, Ricky turned in a panic. But everything was still. The wall had moved. It was about a foot closer and the area felt considerably more cramped, but it appeared to have stopped. Ricky waited for a half dozen quick breaths, but nothing happened.
He reached for the next floorboard. As he lifted, he kept his head turned to watch the wall. He picked up the floorboard and set it aside. Sure enough, the wall shifted another foot toward him. He felt the push of the water. Debris flaked and drifted where the two walls touched. Chips of plaster danced. Ricky froze.
He was tired of feeling alone. He needed to talk. “I think if I keep digging, the walls are going to collapse.”
“Don’t risk it. Check the other place instead. No reason if we don’t know it’s there. Come back when we know this is the only one left. We’ll knock the walls down, move them a piece at a time if we have to.”
“I got a feeling. There’s a rug. And the boards. This feels right. I’m going to keep going. I’ll be careful.”
“Don’t do nothing a guy in a movie would do. Do what a normal person would do. Nothing stupid or heroic, ’cause stupid and heroic are the same thing.”
“Even if it means not finding the box?”
“Well, if it means finding the box, then do whatever you can. No matter how dangerous. The more dangerouser, the better. Take it out of a shark’s mouth, you have to.”
“Thanks, Harry.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Seriously, don’t be a hero. Nothing’s all-or-nothing. We’ve waited our lives for this. We can wait however longer need be.”