“Looks like a DV kit for distinguished visitors,” I mused. “Wonder how many of these he gives out a year and I wonder if we really are welcome.”
“We’ll have to tread carefully at first to see his mood. In my opinion, no one on station is above suspicion. Sounds pretty spooky down there to me.”
“Agreed,” I said. “I just can’t imagine that story about the empty dive suit and missing diver. Must be more to that story than we heard.”
“Yeah,” he said glancing up from the card, “I know I’m going to dream about that tonight.”
“And probably for the next month too,” I added.
“Hey I’m going to hit the shower or do you want to go first?”
I grabbed the TV remote from the dresser and flipped to an old movie.
“No. I’ll be fine with this if it doesn’t put me to sleep. Took one this morning. Oh and don’t steam it up too much in there. I’m already sweating. Wish the AC had a little more oomph.”
Entering the bathroom, he glanced back and said, “Hey, Marker, beggars can’t be choosers,” and shut the door behind him.
Chapter 9. Discovery One
Two hours into the flight, our pilot informed us we were nearing the drop point. Through turbulent winds, we had flown over black nothingness since our departure and Briscoe sitting in the jump seat next to me complained the whole way. He hated the instability of helicopters and their tendency to slide sideways bringing his stomach into his throat (which had happened more than a few times). Only thirty more minutes and the rescue drop-line crewman would open the side door and shove us out if we didn’t go willingly, he joked. No drop line for us though. The crewman explained that during the fast-drop procedure they were instructed to use the chopper would stop in mid-flight only ten feet above the waves, hover for five seconds while we jumped and then speed back to home port.
With only minutes to spare the Chief pulled what looked like a checklist from a sleeve pocket and read from it.
“Life vest?”
“Check,” I said.
He patted his.
“Sonar pinger clipped on belt?”
“Check.”
“Kitbag clipped on belt?”
“Check.”
“ID card in kitbag?”
“Check.”
“Watch? Time?”
“Check. 2325 hours.”
“I also have 2325 hours. Should be dropping soon,” he confirmed then wadded the list and threw it to the floor.
No sooner had he spoken those words than the crewman slid the side door open. The sound of the rotor’s roar with waves crashing a few meters below us was deafening. A cold humid wind rushed through the cabin telling me the time was now. Briscoe stood, approached the door, and grabbed a hanging hand strap.
“C’mon, Marker,” he screamed barely audible over the thunderous clamor.
The crewman nodded and motioned me over to join the Chief then mouthed my fate.
“Here’s your stop.”
Waiting for his signal, we stood hanging on the straps ready to jump. There were no lights under our fuselage; only a brief green or red flash reflecting from the waves when the navigation lights on the tail blinked. I can’t say I wasn’t scared.
The Chief had once said to me, “My life is under the surface of the ocean not on it,” and I agreed. I was not happy, about to jump feet first into a thousand-meter-deep unknown mystery. He had also said, “The first step is the hardest,” and I was feeling that now.
“Go! Go! Go!” yelled the crewman, curling his arm around us from the rear. I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to. Leaving my side the Chief yelled, “Aw shiiiiit,” as he disappeared into the pitch-blackness of the waves.
I was right behind him and screamed something too but can’t remember what. Before I could close my mouth a wave filled it with salt water then tried to invade my nose. This is not supposed to happen I thought. That one-second free fall into the cold dark Pacific Ocean must have taken years from my life. I vowed never to do that again.
When I finally popped to the surface, over the receding helicopter’s flutter I heard Briscoe screaming from some distance away. “Are you okay, Marker?” I also heard a chill in his voice that reminded me how cold I was.
“Fine, Chief, over here,” I yelled hoping he could hear me. Then there was silence except for the clapping waves topping out over me. Worried looking around I saw nothing but darkness and a sky full of sparkling stars with not even a glimmer of moonlight to help my vision.
I flinched, startled at the nearby voice from the waves:
“Got your beacon on?”
“Yes I do but how the hell did you find me, Chief?”
“I just followed your whimpers when the waves crested over you. Simple.”
“I don’t whimper,” I argued.
“Well, how did I find you then? Sonar?”
I had to laugh at his strange logic then he began to laugh too. Suddenly the surrealism surrounding us hit me: we were two humans laughing, floating helplessly at sea, hundreds of miles from the closest shore. Two lost rudderless ships meeting in the dark. This was definitely not our normal mode of diving.
“Hey did you bring any shark repellant?” I asked fending off another wave.
Even through the darkness, I felt his face flush.
“No. That wasn’t on my checklist. Did you?”
“No but maybe they’re sleeping. They won’t bother us.”
“Right and I have some swampland in Florida I’ll sell you too.”
I can’t tell what it was maybe fear or brainless camaraderie but we laughed together for what seemed like hours waiting for our ride to show up. Neither of us had ever heard of a BenthiCraft mini-sub so we didn’t know what to expect other than a small sub with three seats: one for the pilot, one for me and one for him.
Then something appeared. A dim light from below illuminated the waves with an eerie blue cast. Gradually a huge lighted bubble pierced the waves like a UFO rising from the depths. As it surfaced not far from us I searched for a hatch and noticed a hatch cover, a sizable drain-plug-like object, a cork so to speak seated in a large hole at the top of its dome. Attached to it was a reinforced curved arm reaching down with some form of lifting hinge at the hull. The whole bubble couldn’t have been more than eight feet in diameter and the hatch looked only a few feet across.
“See that, Chief?” I asked pointing forward trying to stay upright in the waves. “There’s a hatch on top. Think you can fit through that with all the donuts you’ve eaten?”
“Hey easy, son. Don’t make me think about donuts right now I might throw up.”
As I watched, the hatch cover lifted mechanically and slowly pivoted back with the arm leaving a gaping hole for our entry in the thick dome.
“Yeah I can fit through that. Let’s go, Marker,” Briscoe said swimming toward the light struggling against the waves.
“Right behind you, Chief,” I called out.
Suddenly a motion in the sub, something standing from a seat preceded a body shape rising through the hatch. Expecting a male crewman, I heard a female voice greet us.
“Come on fellas can’t wait all night. We’ve got a hot date down below.”
As I bobbed paddling toward the craft, I had to look twice; I thought I was seeing Charlize Theron standing there smiling, a mirage of loveliness rocking with the waves motioning us toward her like a mermaid from the sea.
“See her there?” I asked rubbing water from my eyes trying to clear them.
“No way. They wouldn’t do that. Would they?” he said coughing almost choking.
“Looks like they did. Things just got more interesting.”
“Okay guys cut the small talk. Somebody climb on the hull and give your hand before I get sick. Let’s get underway,” ordered the voice.