What Lurks Beneath (20 page)

T
he date had gone well. Really well, for Eric.

Ashley actually seemed interested in him, in his work. She wasn't looking at her cell phone now, or making some lame excuse to get up and leave, like many of the women he'd gone out with in California.

They'd just had a few drinks and finished an early dinner, on an outdoor patio at Oceanus, overlooking a saltwater lagoon embedded in man-made rock terraces. The towers of the hotel rose off to his left, silhouetted by the early twilight. Eric had wanted to take her someplace else on the main island, but she'd insisted that the food here was the best.

He'd just told her how he'd grown up on the West Coast, how his parents weren't around much when he'd been a kid and so he'd taken to reading lots of books, building models, taking apart handheld radios and old television sets and putting them back together.

“So you're the baby?” she said.

“I am. And you?”

“I'm the oldest. I have three siblings too.”

He smiled. “Tell me again where you grew up.”

“In the Bahamas. But not here.” She leaned back in her chair and looked past him, out past the resort and toward the ocean. “A place called Two Finger Cay.”

She touched the gold cross around her neck. “When I was young, I spent a lot of time at a small church on the island. It's a little one-room building, made from old shipwreck wood. I always prayed that my daddy would make more money, or that I could get off the island and do it myself.”

The waiter moved up beside the table and asked them how everything was.

“This conch salad is amazing. I could eat it every day,” Eric said. The savory crunch of the cold salad, the fresh citrus and spice, perfectly complemented his bottle of Kalik.

The waiter grinned at Ashley. “You betta watch out for dis one, girl.”

“Hush, Lionel.”

The waiter walked off with a tub of dirty dishes, laughing to himself.

“What was that all about?” Eric said.

She blushed. “In the Bahamas, conch is thought to be an aphrodisiac. He thinks you're trying to get us in the mood.”

Eric scooped a large spoonful of the salad and offered it to her. She smiled and took a small bite. She studied his face. “You never came back to see me again, until now. And you're leaving soon. I don't understand.”

That morning, Eric and the others had gathered data on what was supposed to be one of their final blue holes. It had been awkward, with nobody getting along. But they were wrapping up this week, after almost a month, and had visited almost every accessible marine blue hole or submarine cave in the vicinity. They'd decided to visit The Staircase a final time, tomorrow.

They still had nothing, even though it was almost time to pack it up.

He said, “I was going to come back sooner. It's just that . . . it's about the elevator.” He took a deep breath. “I have a hard time with elevators.”

She raised her hand. “No need to explain.”

“It's more than that. I'm claustrophobic. But I don't usually tell anyone.” He took a sip of beer. “One time, when I was seven, my older brothers made me crawl into the bottom of a sleeping bag. Curl up in a ball. They promised they would give me a piece of candy. Before I knew it, they rolled up the bag and sat on top of me. I couldn't breathe. After a few minutes, I passed out.”

Ashley leaned toward him. “That's terrible. What happened next?”

“I woke up with my dad shaking me. Ever since then, I've struggled with tight spaces. That's why I operate ROVs, instead of diving.”

She placed her hand over his. “You should be proud of yourself, for doing something good with your life.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” he said.

“You're scientists, right? So why are you looking for some sea monster, when there are other important problems here? Problems we already know about. Like lionfish? Or whale strandings?”

He said, “I know what we're doing may seem odd, but cephalopods are Val's specialty. Not fish, or marine mammals. She hired me to help her look for some new species of octopus or squid. And the crazy thing is I'm starting to think that it's possible. That maybe, somehow, there
is
some undiscovered species living in the holes. Something . . . really big.”

“It just seems like there are more important things for you to investigate than local legends.”

“Look, I know how concerned you are about the whales here. Maybe we can talk to some colleagues when we get back. I'm friends with one professor who researches whales, and Val's been in this business a lot longer than me.”

He thought of Karen, the marine mammal expert at PLARG. She'd gotten back to Eric about the object DORA filmed in the offshore hole. She said it was probably a jawbone, from a beaked whale. Of the sort Val and Ashley had seen dying on the beach. He decided not to mention it to Ashley.

“So when are you going back to California?” she asked.

“I had planned to leave this week.”

“Maybe you can stay a little longer?”

“Maybe. If we don't have to go in an elevator.”

She smiled. “No elevators. I promise. But I do want to take you somewhere you might find a little uncomfortable.”

 

 

After college, Eric had travelled through Europe for a few months with a high school friend. They'd spent several days in London, and had to get around mostly using the city's underground metro system—what Londoners called “the Tube.” Back then, he'd had pretty good control over his phobia. Looking down the deep underground stairwell now was like looking down the impossibly long escalators leading to the London Underground.

“Mind the gap,” he whispered.

“What?” Ashley said.

“Nothing. Let's do this before I chicken out.”

He took a deep breath and followed her down what had to be sixty stairs, to the viewing tunnel for the largest aquarium at the resort. She put her hand in his halfway down, and he resolved not to panic as the walls seemed to draw in closer and their footsteps echoed back at them. They reached the bottom. Another couple passed them, laughing as they headed for the stairs. It was darker down here, lit only by recessed lights in the ceiling, which like the walls was fashioned from the uneven rock.

She led him a short distance through the underground tunnel to the beginning of the tank. When they arrived, Eric forgot for a moment about where he was.

The tank, even larger than the other one he'd seen, rose an incredible four stories above the floor of the tunnel to the surface above, with a fake shipwreck that looked like an old galleon resting in the center. Swimming in slow circles around the wreck were two huge manta rays, the larger having a wingspan of perhaps fifteen feet, as well as several two-hundred-pound groupers, mature nurse sharks, and countless smaller fish.

“You okay?” Ashley said.

“Yeah. It helps that I can see the surface through the aquarium.”

“You like it?”

“I'm impressed. Those mantas are enormous.”

“We're releasing the bigger one this weekend,” she said.

“How?”

“With a helicopter. You should come watch.”

She led him slowly through a horseshoe-shaped tunnel encircling most of the exhibit, and he realized the fake shipwreck had been strategically located to keep the animals near the aquarium glass. And the tank lacked any real hiding places for the sea life. Otherwise, the sharks and other fish would likely spend most of their time hidden within it, out of sight of paying guests. On the tunnel walls opposite the tank they had also passed a few recessed doors. From behind one came the sounds of ongoing construction.

“What's going on back there?” he said. “It seems late for anyone to be working.”

“They're working to finish another tunnel. They have to work from below, so guests don't have to see a construction zone above.”

“What's it for?”

“Another access tunnel to this exhibit. When it's nearly done, they'll come from above to open it up.”

They had run into Oceanus's owner before dinner, a charismatic tycoon who apparently spent a lot of time at his resort. Some Greek guy named Sergio Barbas. His well-trimmed beard and worldly charm made Eric think of a refined older actor he'd seen in popular Mexican beer commercials.

Barbas had seemed to be in a good mood, saying something about a clogged aquarium outflow pipe finally clearing itself. But his expression had changed when he'd pulled Ashley aside to talk about something serious. Eric had caught parts of the conversation.

They reached a fork in the tunnel, and Ashley asked if he wanted to see the adjacent tank. He told her he already had, and was ready to head above ground. They started up the tunnel that sloped up toward another stairwell leading to the surface. It was almost dark out now.

He said, “I overheard Barbas talking to you earlier. About that woman who's been held here by the police, ever since her wife went missing.”

“You heard about that too?”

“I read an online article about it. It's all over the news, you know. And the missing yacht that was headed here. Oceanus seems to have a pretty bad safety record.”

She stopped, at the top of the stairway, and let go of his hand. “That's not true. It's just been a bad week.”

“It can't be good for business to have so many guests go missing.”

“
One
guest is missing. The yacht was far offshore. We're not at all responsible for that.”

“The article said some other people also disappeared here last year.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Do you know how many people visit Oceanus? We've had a few accidents, but we have a good safety record. Mr. Barbas does everything he can.”

He reached for her hand. “Please don't get upset. I'm not saying this has anything to do with you. It's just too bad you have to work for him. And work here.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What's that supposed to mean?”

A part of him knew he was digging himself a hole, but then his mouth just kept going.

“This place is beautiful, it really is, but it's just so
fake.
Even the aquariums. They're supposed to look like the natural features Barbas built the hotel around. But we both know they've not natural at all.”

“This resort is the best thing that ever happened to Andros,” she said.

“I understand that a mega-resort like this brings a lot of jobs to the country. To the island. But think about it? Where does all the
real
money flow? Back to investors in the US and China. To Barbas's bank account.”

“Maybe. But that's so easy for you to say. This is the best job I ever had. Whether or not it gets someone else rich isn't important to me.”

“I just don't understand. You seem to care so much about the ocean. Look at the environmental impact here. I've heard there's already talk of blasting part of the barrier reef apart, to make way for a deepwater port. So the cruise ships can come in.”

“That's just a rumor.”

“For now. But do you want to be part of destroying this reef? It's one of the most pristine in the world.”

“You listen to me, Big Man Eric. There is fairy-tale land and there is real life. It's easy for you to live in the former. You have everything you need back in sunny California. But guess what? I don't. My family don't. A lot of people down here don't. And this resort pays our bills. Lets us buy better food, better homes. Lets us all pay for cell phones and televisions. Things you Americans all take for granted.”

“I hear you, but I'm just saying—”

She raised a finger, her eyes menacing. “I would like to keep the Bahamas exactly the way they are. The reefs, the oceans, the culture. That's a
want.
But I
need
a job. Mr. Barbas gives me, and a thousand others, good jobs. That's the difference between fairy-tale land and real life. Want, and
need
.”

“You're right. I'm sorry, Ashley. I wasn't trying to upset you.”

“Well, you did. Good evening, Eric.” She climbed the last few stairs and started down the path. He hurried after her.

“Wait. You're
leaving
?”

“Don't even think of followin' me.” She strode off in the deepening darkness.

Eric stood there mutely as she walked away.

I
n the sunlight, listening to the wind whisper through the Bahamian pines ringing the blue hole, Eric thought again that it looked so peaceful here. Safe, even. But they had returned to this bottomless pool of water because it
wasn't
safe. Because somewhere in its depths there were two dead bodies.

And now Eric had to find them.

He took a deep breath, trying to forget about his date with Ashley. He hunched back over his ROV, sealing an exterior panel. He hoped that his modification would allow DORA to make it past the restriction, because if it didn't, at best they would be wasting their time here. At worst, he would get his ROV trapped.

They were back at The Staircase because this was the one place where hard evidence—a possible tentacle captured in a digital image—had been gathered, and because Mack wanted to know what happened to his friend.
Needed
to know.

When they'd been unable to continue here before, it had been in part because DORA wouldn't fit through a restriction in the hole's cave system.
Probably
wouldn't fit, anyway. Eric hadn't been willing to risk it. To address that problem, he'd ordered in a part from Florida. When it had finally arrived yesterday, he'd replaced the rear propeller with a smaller one and tested the device in a shallow offshore lagoon. DORA ran about the same as before, but a bit slower. With the modification, the opening would probably be large enough to allow DORA to pass. By a hair or two, anyway.

He was anxious anyway. DORA's girth hadn't been the only reason he'd turned her back at the restriction last time. Eric hadn't been confident enough to try his luck. Submarine cave navigation using an ROV was simply too difficult. Now, after a lot of practice, he knew he was getting better at operating the little ROV in tight spaces.

He could do this. Well, DORA could, anyway.

“Are you ready?” Val stepped up beside him, zipping the back of her wet suit with a pull cord.

She was still mad at him. He felt bad about what he'd said about Mack, and that he'd done it in front of her, but couldn't understand why she hadn't taken his side.

He said, “Almost. Where's Mack?”

“He went to take a break.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“That
lusca
thing Clive told you about. That you looked up?”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Could it be possible? Some half-shark, half-octopus thing? ”

Val laughed at him. “Obviously you're not a biologist.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you wouldn't realize that that idea is ridiculous. Have you taken much biology?”

He shook his head. “Just 101, a long time ago. I was always more interested in physics, engineering.”

“Well, even in 101 they should have taught you something about evolution. Unless we have a mad scientist working in the Bahamas, we aren't going to have blended phyla in the animal kingdom.”

“No, I guess not,” he said.

“But our whole idea of an undiscovered marine species has some backing. And not just from Breck's picture here, or the stories we've heard lately.”

“How so?”

“There isn't any real credibility to the
lusca
legends. But there have been globsters that have washed ashore in Florida and the Bahamas. Those lend some potential credibility to there being a large, undiscovered cephalopod here.”

“Globsters?”

“Whenever you hear about some unidentified organic mass washing up on shore, which later turns out to be part of a dead shark, or maybe a jellyfish? That's what they call a globster. The most famous one, attributed to a sea monster in Florida, was
probably
from a whale, but after a few separate analyses, the tissue samples are still inconclusive.”

“Listen, Val, about the other night—”

Eric stopped as Mack appeared from behind the bushes. He limped toward them, adjusting the sleeve of his wet suit and grumbling. Eric knew it was even harder for him to walk on the rough ground back there, in his prosthesis, than it was for him and Val. He wondered if he really was the bigger asshole.

“What are you two talking about?” Mack said.

“Nothing,” Val said.

Mack spit into the tea-colored pool. “Let's get this show on the road.”

Eric saw Val rubbing her stomach as she looked into the hole, a concerned look on her face. “Are you all right?” he said.

“I'm fine.” She reached for her tank.

 

 

Eric swore as DORA thudded into the cave wall again. He knew she had made contact because the on-screen image had shuddered. He needed to do better than this, or he was sure to get her stuck again. And this time, she was too far back to allow anyone but the most experienced cave diver to go back to retrieve her.

He had guided DORA as she descended behind Val and Mack, who were now probably 120 feet down in the main shaft, helping feed out the ROV's cable as she progressed forward. She was hundreds of feet beyond them now, in the side tunnel.

Eric had again followed the dead men's primary safety line. He was careful not to snag it, or to sever it. If the line was cut and then disappeared in the sediments of the cavern, Eric could always follow DORA's own cable back out, but without an intact safety line, they would have no way to ever find out where the divers had disappeared. These caverns were a labyrinth in every sense.

DORA was making great progress. She had followed the line through a large chamber with a number of stalagmites rising from the floor, and past another long, low cavern lined with hundreds of fragile calcite formations running from floor to ceiling. Eric had winced when he was fairly certain he'd run DORA into one of them, hoping he hadn't broken it off. Now the ROV was nearly to where she'd made it last time. But besides bumping the ancient formation, Eric had already run the ROV into the sides of the tunnel several other times.

He was struggling to concentrate. His mind was on something else. Someone.

He knew it was so petty to still be thinking about Ashley now, when they were here, looking for the body of Mack's dead friend, but he couldn't help himself. He took a deep breath.

DORA entered a long, cylindrical passage Eric remembered well, and he piloted her forward smoothly. After fifty feet or so, he slowed her to a stop. She was there. He leaned back from the controls.

When he had navigated this tunnel previously, on his computer monitor he'd thought it looked like he was watching the view of one of those scopes going down someone's esophagus. Now he'd reached the sphincter.

“What do you think, DORA?”

He sat upright on the rocky ground, and swatted another midge biting into his neck. The little bastards were no bigger than tiny splinters, but they were leaving red bumps all over his body. On the screen, a puff of sediment rose past the camera. Without any commands from Eric, DORA had settled to the bottom.

Eric leaned forward again and touched the control stick. Hundreds of feet below, through layers of porous rock and water, DORA rose slowly off the bottom, and then pivoted upward until her nose was directed at the restriction. He stared at the dark slit where the tunnel curved upward, as more clouds of dust stirred past the camera. This was where he had stopped the ROV last time. The safety line from the other divers continued, though. From where it had been tied off to a small nub of rock, it angled upward and disappeared into what appeared to be some sort of natural chimney.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, and eased DORA forward.

Smooth curves of rock inched past on the screen. Although to Eric it appeared as though the ROV was still moving forward on the level, parallel to the ground he sat on now, he could tell from a digital bubble on the screen that she was slowly making the upward turn. He tapped the stick, and she lurched forward. The screen shook as some part of her struck the cavern wall.

“Shit.”

He pulled gently back on the stick, as a pilot does to make an aircraft climb, and then tapped the thruster again. Suddenly, he could see farther down the shaft. Up, actually. He reminded himself that he was now looking straight up. He could see maybe ten feet forward, maybe more, but it was hard to tell. The motionless safety line left by the divers led the way to the next bend. This was farther than he had dared last time. He nudged her forward again.

DORA bumped once. Twice. But she was still moving. Making progress.

“No turning back now, girl. . . .”

He accelerated, and a cloud of sediment filled the screen. He put the prop in neutral and waited for the dust to settle. When it did, he smiled. She was through.

The cave began to gradually widen and he shouted, even now wishing Val and Mack were here to share in the good news. DORA continued along the line, moving forward in the broad tunnel. He slowed her as the tunnel gradually narrowed, but was still easily passable, then she passed through a minor restriction, and the shaft opened into a huge grotto.

DORA was at the upper part of the chamber. Her lights revealed a great cavity below, filled with gin-clear seawater. Unlike the other grottos, this one lacked many calcite formations, with walls that were mostly smooth. He shook his head. People had actually swum back this far. Cave divers were some crazy bastards.

The chamber had to be fifty or so feet across, and nearly as high—the largest one yet. Here the safety line ended, tied off to a nub of rock, but two other lines began. Each ran into the chamber. The men must have separated here. And based on what Val had told him, this was where the camera had been found.

He piloted DORA into the space and followed one of the lines. It quickly began to slack, dropping far down to the bottom, where it lay in coils. He frowned. He followed it for another thirty feet or so, where it entered another dark recess lit only by DORA's LEDs.

He pivoted the ROV and steered her back toward the top of the chamber, back to the main line, then followed the other of the two secondary lines. It remained taut, and ran across the top of the chamber to an opening in the ceiling not far from where DORA had first entered. He paused, considering the options. He decided to follow this line first.

The line ran into another tunnel, and he navigated past a few curves. Then, perhaps twenty yards from the chamber, he caught a glint in the ROV's lights. A reflection, off some sort of small, man-made object. His heart thudded in his chest. He pushed her forward and zoomed on the object. It was round, made of metal....

A spool. A diver's spool, containing the safety line.

There, the line ended.

“Now what?” he said. He allowed DORA to settle again, and stood to stretch his legs. Overhead, a vulture soared in the breeze coming off the distant ocean. He'd seen the ugly, red-headed birds many times on the island, often picking at the remains of land crabs crushed by the tires of cars bumping along the roads. He walked back to the laptop and sat again, looking at the screen. He'd come this far. He could go a little farther. As long as the tunnel didn't branch again.

But it did.

After a short distance, there were two options. He pivoted DORA at the juncture. Thankfully, one branch appeared to end almost immediately. He moved DORA down the other one. Ahead was a restriction, probably only two feet across.
This may be it.

He eased the ROV to the opening. She probably wouldn't fit, but . . .

A shape. Something dark was in the ROV's lights, just past the restriction. He turned her nose to face it, and then he saw him.

A few yards away, sitting down at what looked like a dead end. Facing him. A man.

A diver, in blue neoprene.

He would almost have looked as though he was resting, if the flesh hadn't been coming away from his lips. His regulator had fallen from his mouth, and in the ROV's lights Eric stared at the gaping mouth, where white teeth parted in a final scream. No bubbles rose from his lungs. Or ever would again. Eric swallowed. He'd never seen a dead body before.

He couldn't make out much of the diver's face, the glare off his mask obscuring his eyes and nose. But dark, curly hair was coming free from the scalp, settling on neoprene-clad shoulders. And the flesh around the lips, now beginning to rot away, appeared to be that of a gaunt, middle-aged black man.

He'd found John Breck.