by K. T. Tomb
Nick’s voice came over the comm link.
“I have the last entry translated. Do you want to hear it? This was written the day the Titanic hit the iceberg. It’s a bit lengthy.”
“Affirmative,” Franco said.
Nick read the last letter, as the two divers continued down endless passages after the vision of the woman.
April 14, 1912
Dearest Masha,
I killed him! I killed Vlad. In a moment of weakness I returned to speak with him about being unable to find Stephan. I approached him as I felt that I had nowhere else to turn. I had expected Stephan to return to me with great declarations of apology, but he had not. When I knocked on Vlad’s door, he answered, but when I spoke he broke down, clinging to me in such a manner that I feared for his well-being. It was then that he confessed he had fallen in love with me. Therefore, he said, he had to atone for his actions as he had done me a great wrong. Clearly I am very heartbroken and confused by all of this.
He confessed to me that he had killed Stephan! My poor darling, murdered last night by the very man I had been unfaithful with. He was already dead by the time I had returned to find him. Vlad explained that he and Katinka had been hired by Igor to kill Stephan and then return me to him. Vlad explained that the game had been to get Stephan back to the room alone with Katinka, who would then begin the charade of placing them in a compromising position, which I would find upon return to the room. Consumed with jealousy, I would then be blind to the implications of Stephan’s absence. This had been their plan all along. Vlad had killed him after I left that night.
When he told me this, I became so overwrought that, in a fit, I returned to my room, shattered the mirror on my vanity and avenged the murder of Stephan. I took the shard of glass and cut Vlad, stabbing him until he no longer moved. I feel no sorrow for my actions, which means I have become as much of a monster as any of them. I found no sign of Katinka or I would have gladly taken her life as well. Tonight at the hour of half past eleven, I plan to stand at the keel of the Titanic and slash my wrists before I leap into the ocean never to be seen again. I shall take the dowry diamonds with me to my watery grave. They represent a part of me that can never be rectified.
I am greatly saddened that these letters may not reach you after all. There is nothing left for me once I reach America. Perhaps they will discover this journal after the Titanic reaches New York and send my belongings back to you. Perhaps then you shall know what has become of your sister.
All my love,
Darya
Nick finished reading, and the events began to take shape in Franco’s mind.
“Half past eleven,” Franco said. “That would have been...”
“Ten minutes before the Titanic hit the iceberg,” Nick confirmed. “If she had just waited...” They turned another corner, leading down another hall. Finally, they came to a passageway that ended in a pair of opulent beveled glass doors. They opened of their own accord when the two men reached them.
A large, ornate dining room greeted their vision. The ghosts of the Titanic had manifested themselves to them. Well-dressed men and women sat at the tables surrounding the large dance floor. On the side of the room, the string quartet played the music they had been hearing.
Franco finally recognized the piece, “Nearer My God, To Thee”, the last song played by the quartet, according to many eyewitness accounts. Franco had not recognized it before, as it had been played as a waltz. He then noticed in the center of the dance floor a couple danced. He recognized the man from the locket they had retrieved last time. Darya and Stephan danced together, gazing at each other happily. It was then that Franco noticed with the sleeves of her gown draped and exposing her forearms, he could see dark red slash marks from her wrists nearly to the crease of her elbows. When they spun toward him, he also saw on the man a small thin line of red bruises circling his neck just below his jawline and an ugly, dark blood stain pooled on the back of his shirt.
Franco became mesmerized by the fluid motion of their dance and the way they gazed at each other with tortured rapture on their faces. They were locked together, anguished ghosts unable to escape the treachery of their deaths. The rest of the Titanic ghosts inhabited the room silently watched Darya and Stephan dance. Some of them wore the opulent clothing identifying them as first class passengers, but many more of them were dressed in plain clothing, scarves and simple clothing of those who rode in the steerage quarters. Franco watched breathlessly as Darya and Stephan spun around once more, nearing the two divers. In an instant, Franco saw what they had come for, the same moment that Harper spoke.
“Look!” Harper said, slowly lifting a hand to point to the other side of the dining room.
Resting on an empty table on the edge of the open floor, lay a small, blue gilded satchel.
The diamonds.
“This is Franco to base. We have visual on the diamonds,” he said.
No response came from Nick or Lisa. Franco glanced at Harper with concern. He lifted his hand to the sensor adhered to his throat feeling at it beneath the fabric of his suit.
Harper attempted the comm link.
“This is Harper. Come in base.”
“This is base. Affirmative.”
Lisa’s voice replied with clarity.
“Can you hear Franco?” Harper said.
“This is Franco. Respond,” Franco added.
“I’m not picking up Franco. There might be an issue with the comm link,” Lisa said.
Harper confirmed.
“I have visual on Franco. He’s right here next to me. He’s giving me the okay sign.”
“Affirmative,” Lisa replied. “Any sign of the diamonds?”
“We have a visual on the diamonds. I’m going to pick them up right now.”
Harper began the torturous movements of crossing the dance floor, still immersed in the full hallucination of the open dance floor and dining room. The quartet continued to play “Nearer My God To Thee,” except the arrangement had shifted to a slow, dirge-like sound. Franco noticed the inhabitants watching Harper as he tried to make his way across the room. Darya and Stephan paused their dancing and watched him. Finally, Harper reached the diamonds, grabbing the bag in one hand. He turned to Franco and gave the thumbs up sign. Franco grinned, despite their surroundings.
They had the diamonds.
Harper spoke again on the comm link.
“I have acquired the diamonds. Preparing to ascend.”
“Affirmative,” came Lisa’s voice from base.
“I’ve lost sight of Franco,” Harper said, as he began his return toward the other diver.
Franco gave him a puzzled look.
“He was just right here. He must have gone around a corner. He’s out of range of my headlamp.”
Franco fumbled with the comm link sensor, trying to move it into place under the fabric of his wet suit. The restricted cloth around his fingers and against his neck made it difficult for him to find the small device. Regardless, he spoke frantically into his device.
“This is Franco. Respond, base. I am okay. Respond.”
He only received silence in return. They still could not hear him. Harper walked closer. Franco saw what Harper had in his other hand; a small broken pipe that he must have picked up when retrieving the diamonds. The sharp edge looked menacing as Harper moved toward him. Franco knew that one slip of the sharp edge on his tubing or his wetsuit and the pressure of the sea would crush him. Franco began to struggle away, fighting against the pressure of the water. The ghost inhabitants stood, moving with alarming speed; all at once, all of them converged on Harper. Franco could hear his screams, high and desperate, as they surrounded him, vanishing and reappearing as they circled him. Harper stumbled, scrabbling and reaching for Franco. The last Franco saw of Harper, was Harper clutching at the ground as something, or someone, pulled him into darkness with unnatural speed, his face a frozen mask of fear behind the face plate of his helmet. He had been clutching the diamonds
when he was taken. The illusion around them vanished and Franco found himself standing alone in the dining room of the Titanic, once more covered in rubble and immersed in the depths of the ocean.
“What’s going on down there, guys?” Lisa asked over the comm link. “I’m losing stats on Harper! Franco, if you can hear me. You are low on oxygen. Prepare for ascension.”
She had heard all of Harper’s screams, but could not make out what had happened.
“I’ve lost visual on Harper. Diver has been compromised.” Franco said, desperately.
Still no response. He glanced at the oxygen meter in his mini-console on his wrist. He had no choice. He could not go after Harper without risking his own life and suffocating himself. He had to get out without the diamonds. He turned and found his way out the overhead window and began to steadily kick the long journey back to the surface.
Chapter Six
June 18, 2014
Latitude 41° 43’ 57” North, longitude 49° 56’ 49” West
Franco’s head finally breached the surface of the ocean. The sky looked gray and overcast and the waves of the ocean tossed him like a cork in the vast sea. He emerged some distance from the ship and had not been able to contact the ship through the comm link. Immediately, he began to swim toward the support vessel as fast as his fatigued arms could fight against the waves. He had no way to signal the ship. Franco already felt the effects of numbness in his fingertips and toes. He knew he needed to get aboard and into the decompression chamber as quickly as possible to avoid any long term effects from decompression sickness. After swimming for a few yards, he finally heard the sound that gave him a sense of relief.
“There he is!” Lisa called out from the edge of the vessel.
She ran to the edge of the diving platform and shouted to Captain Martin to move the ship toward Franco. Nick joined her at the edge of the platform. Franco’s arms gave out just as Nick and Lisa reached for him, plucking him out of the ocean and placing him on his side on the deck of the vessel. Immediately, Lisa pulled his mask off and allowed him to purge the oxygenated liquid from his body.
“Help me get the suit off of him.”
Captain Martin had emerged from the cabin and the three of them worked on Franco. Lisa pulled him onto the stretcher, keeping him on his side, and rolled him to sick bay while Nick and the captain freed him from the suit. They worked frantically until the stretcher rolled into the large decompression chamber inside the sick bay. Lisa rolled the stretcher into the large tube-like structure. Captain Martin pulled the door closed with a loud clang, turning the large lock which ensured the integrity of the false atmosphere and saving Franco’s life.
“Will he be okay?” Nick asked, as they stood next to the medic and the captain.
“Yes,” Lisa replied. “I gave him a sedative, mainly to get him into the chamber. I thought we’d lost him for sure. I’m glad we stayed in case they ascended. Now that he’s in the chamber, he’ll regulate. He’ll be okay.”
“What about Harper?” Nick asked.
“I don’t know,” Lisa said. “I lost him on the monitors.”
“Harper’s gone,” the captain said from the door of the sick bay.
The other two looked at him and he wore on his face a look of such finality that neither could find the words to answer him.
***
When Franco opened his eyes, he immediately recognized the surgical white walls of the decompression chamber. He felt well enough to sit up, pulling himself to the edge of the stretcher he laid on. He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath, grateful for the technology of the chamber which had saved his life. He stood carefully to make sure there was enough room in the small room for him to not hit his head. When he found he had room to stand fully, he stretched his arms out, flexing his muscles. He turned to look through the small window on the wall of the chamber. He knew that the outside monitor would alert Lisa to him waking. He walked to the window to shade his eyes and look out. What he saw stopped his breath. Scrawled across the width of the window in rust colored letters, dripping from an unknown moisture, Franco saw the words:
SAVE US!
Franco leaped back from the window, stumbling against the stretcher. The presence of the letters caused him to picture once again the bloated, black-fingered hands reaching for him. Except this time they scrawled across the plexiglass window the letters spelling out the message before him, leaving a carrion trail. He closed his eyes tightly to will himself to wake up, clearly he must be dreaming, he reasoned. He opened his eyes again, but the words remained. Franco lay akimbo on the stretcher, staring at the words. Finally, the voice of the medic came across the speaker into the chamber.
“Good afternoon, Franco,” Lisa said. “How are you feeling?”
He answered by making a weak sound as words could not come to him. The words glared at him from the window, inside the window.
“Say that again, Franco. I couldn’t quite hear you.” Lisa said.
“Ghost,” Franco mumbled finally. “Followed me.”
Lisa walked up to the window. Franco could see her face through the lens. He saw that she could view the words scrawled there. “Oh, my God,” she said. “What did that?”
“I can tell you what I saw down there and what I think it is, but I’d really like to get out of this chamber if that is okay,” Franco said.
An hour later, Franco, Nick, Lisa and Captain Martin sat around the table in the kitchen mess hall of the support vessel. Franco explained what they had witnessed below in the Titanic, describing the vision of Darya and Stephan dancing in the ballroom, the eerie sound of the ship’s quartet playing the last song they had ever played, over and over again for the trapped souls.
“What struck me about the vision was the clarity of it. As if we were there. The ship looked as it must have before it had sunk,” Franco said.
He turned to Nick.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before.”
Nick shrugged.
“It’s not something that happens every day.”
Captain Martin took a swig of his coffee, and then said, “We need to cancel the dive, and get the ship back to harbor. I’m not losing another diver on my watch.”
As soon as he spoke these words, the doors to the overhead cabinets began to open and slam shut. The ship was not unsteady as the waves had already subsided. The cabinets continued to slam open and then closed; all of them causing such a noise that the others could not even speak above the raucous sound. Franco motioned to the manifestation. The movement of the doors escalated, the repetitive slams overcoming the room. The table began to shake independently, causing the coffee mugs to vibrate to the edge and fall off one at a time. Lisa clung to the table, willing it to be still but the vibration jolted her back.
“What’s going on!” Lisa shouted over the noise.
“They want something from us!” Nick said loudly. “I could sense that during the dive. I saw Stephan get murdered by Vlad. I know that now. And now this message.‘Save us’. They want us to do something.”
“Yes,” Lisa said. “But what? What do you want from us? We can’t help you if we don’t know!” she cried out above the cacophony.
As soon as she said that, the noise stopped. The cabinet doors went still. The table stopped shaking. The room became silent.
“I can’t take this,” Nick said, suddenly raking his fingers through his hair, leaving it splayed wildly about his head. “I’m done! I’m not going back. Matvei can get those diamonds himself. I’m not doing it!”
Franco stood.
“I’m going to talk to Matvei. He gave me a cell phone to contact him if there was any type of emergency circumstances. I’m pretty sure this qualifies. We have to abandon the mission.”
“This is heartbreaking,” the aged voice of Leo Matvei said to Franco, as he sat alone in his cabin.
Franco had explained everything to him about the visions and the found diary, and had even read the relevant pages to him.
“But, this makes sense,” Matvei said. “There has always been a hidden... unrest in the family since the disappearance of those diamonds. Some say the loss of the dowry jewels awoke a curse on our kin. The unrest of Aunt Darya’s soul would explain this. Others in the family are a little more skeptical. They simply think this sadness of her family has seeped into the next generations through the bloodlines.”
“We have to abandon the dive,” Franco explained wearily to the man who had hired him. He tried to remain polite, but he did not want to listen to the sentimental waxings of the old man.
“We’ve lost one diver, and with him gone, we are short one suit. This expedition is a wash.”
“Not necessarily,” Matvei said. “I have an idea. Do you have something to write with? Something that would survive the depths of the dive if taken down to the Titanic?”
Franco thought through the equipment manifest.
“Yes, we do.”
“The young man who speaks Russian. Is he there? May I speak with him?” Matvei asked.
“Yes,” Franco replied. “Let me get him.”
He carried the phone to Nick’s quarters, and the two of them sat and listened to the plan with Matvei on speaker phone. After he explained, Franco left and allowed Nick to sit and take down a transcription from the man on the phone. Franco walked to the equipment area to prepare for one more dive. This time Franco had no choice but to make the dive alone.