Off The Grid (20 page)

Chapter 41

Antoine had been watching the DWO patrol boat for the past five minutes. The boat was making ever-tighter circles around the oil platform. A bright spotlight affixed to the top of the boat scanned the water. The patrol boat clearly wasn’t in a hurry to investigate Antoine’s vessel, or the pilot was just a moron. If Antoine could see the DWO boat, the 30-foot Anchor Point shouldn’t be tough to see even though it was partially obscured by a rock formation.

He wondered what in the hell he was doing out here anyway. Just yesterday he was resting comfortably in a studio apartment in Charlestown, living off his retirement pension checks, without a care in the world. He’d all but forgotten about this place. Cousin
Estevan calls and all those memories of Ann rush back. The accident and her failed recovery. The constant pain she was in and the relief he felt when she finally passed. What a horrible thing to want, for someone else to die. She was so miserable and didn’t want to fight any longer. It was a blessing. It really was.

Estevan
shutdown after Ann died. He retreated to his work, but was unable to continue when they revoked his medical license. He became a shell of the man he once was. The driving spirit and determination that had led him all those years left completely when she died. He had failed to save her and lost everything. He was lucky the university let him stay on as a caretaker. He once told Antoine that he didn’t view the job as a disgrace, but rather a suitable punishment for what he did. He was tormented for what he did to Ann.

His job now was to make sure the school and its students were well taken care of, something he could control. If that meant cutting the grass and washing the toilets, then so be it. This was his lot in life, he had said. But Antoine knew the truth, he wanted more, but so much had been taken away, he wouldn’t know where to begin.

So when the phone rang yesterday, Estevan sounded like a different man. He was practically giddy about this new adventure. He had a couple who needed to get some silver sand – what they always called it growing up - and Antoine was the only one who could help them. There was no way he could refuse. But now, as the patrol boat’s spotlight finally fixed on his location, he was questioning his decision to help these strangers. 

Antoine twisted open a beer and put his legs up on the side of the boat as the patrol approached. His two large trolling fishing poles protruded from the back of his boat. Only about 15 minutes had elapsed since they went down.

A man in a white security uniform piloted the DWO boat, which pulled up a few lengths away. He stepped to the side of the boat and angled the spotlight on Antoine. The security man clutched a shotgun.

“Sir, these are restricted waters,” he shouted. “You must vacate the area immediately.”

“Restricted waters?” Antoine said, shaking his beer bottle at the man. “There’s no restricted waters out here, this is the Goddamned ocean. This is where the fish are biting and I’m one bad fisherman, so if they are biting, I’m staying. This never happens.”

“Sir, you must vacate this area, it is off limits at all times.”

“I’ve been waiting to find a fishing spot that actually has real fish in it for years,” he said, taking a swig from his bottle. “You know those guide books we sell to tourists. Yeah, they don’t have this spot listed because it’s a local secret I guess. This is where we keep all the good fish. Good thing too, because I’m going to fry these babies up tonight.”

He pulled up a collection of freshly caught fish that were chained to the side of the boat. The clips were through their gills and mouth, but they still flapped when he lifted them out of the water.

“This location isn’t listed in any fishing guidebooks, because this is a restricted area sir,” the man said, becoming more agitated. “I have the authority to board your vessel and forcefully remove you from this location.”

“Come on over, I’ve got enough beer for two. You got any bait? I might be running low on bait. Maybe they’ll like my beer?”

He shook up the beer and sprayed it into the water with his thumb over the opening. Some of the spray hit the security man. Antoine wasn’t just acting tipsy. He’d pounded a few beers already.

“Sir, please make this easy on both of us and just pull up your anchor and vacate the area.”

“OK, OK. You didn’t have to whip out the shotgun for God’s sake! I’m reasonable.”

The man watched intently as Antoine slowly walked to the captain’s chair of the boat and turned the key. The engine roared to life – a little too much. The rumbling from below deck petered out faster than it began.

Antoine turned and looked over his shoulder, “Now see! You got me all flustered and I flooded the damn thing. Let me see if I can tell what’s the problem. You got a flashlight I can borrow? I think it’s in the engine.”

The security guard could only watch and wait as the drunken man stumbled about his boat. In no hurry at all, Antoine climbed down the deck ladder and into the bowels of the boat.

Chapter 42

It seemed silly, Luke thought to himself. You get stuck underwater or lose your flashlight like
an idiot, all you have to do is swim up. That’s it. The surface of the water doesn’t move. It’s still where you last left it. Just head up there and all’s forgiven. No problem. Except he left his boss next to two yellow glow sticks a couple hundred yards away. He had to go back for her and then get them both to the boat.

Dropping the bag of rocks was another story altogether. Talk about stupid. He had to get the flashlight for Kathryn, but he needed the bag for him.

Had he packed his own gear, he would have placed a spare flashlight on his jacket, just in case. Unfortunately, he was at the mercy of someone else’s equipment and he just didn’t have that luxury. But he did have two more battery-operated glow sticks that could bring him a faint amount of light. He twisted the top of one of the sticks. By tightening the seal, he brought the trigger mechanism in contact with the two AA batteries inside. In his darkened panic, he rotated the cap left, not right and the spring inside the glow stick ejected the batteries into the water, rendering it useless.

One stick down.

Recognizing his mistake, he correctly tightened the second glow stick. A faint green light illuminated a foot around him in all directions. It wasn’t much light, but it would have to do.

He could always come back for the samples, but he only had one chance at getting Kathryn out of the water safely. He feared that she would run out of air, then try to surface without any safety stops. He’d never seen pressure sickness - the bends - before and he didn’t want to start tonight.

He remembered what
Estevan had told him - the deepest point of the ravine was just 175 feet. He was currently hovering around 125 feet. He checked his air supply. He had plenty left. He twisted the cord of the glow stick around his finger so he wouldn’t lose it, deflated a little more air out of his vest and started to descend in search of his flashlight that could be anywhere.

***

“Here, hold this,” Antoine thrust a wrench into the security guard’s hand.

His name was Phil and he was from Charlestown too. They had dispensed with the small talk rather quickly and got to work on Antoine’s boat. Phil came aboard the boat after Antoine had spent a little too much time below deck working on his engine.

“I think you may have cut a fuel line,” Phil said. “It reeks down here.”

Phil was right. Antoine was prepared for the possibility that DWO would investigate his boat floating in its restricted area. He’d pulled out a spark plug and rested it on a paperclip spacer in its slot, so the engine would fire, but quickly flame out when the paper clip fell. Once detective Phil hopped on board he had to modify his plan. Before he could get a good look at the engine, Antoine used his pocketknife to slice open a small hole in the fuel line. Now the diesel fuel was leaking into the engine compartment.

“Son of a gun,” Antoine said. “You’re right. That’s an easy fix. I’ll just wrap it up.”

He stumbled over to a cabinet and made a big show of digging through its contents.

“I know I’ve got some duct tape in here somewhere. Who doesn’t have duct tape? You can’t practically live without that stuff. It does it all. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does come in pretty handy. I may have a roll on my boat,” Phil said. “Let me double check.”

Phil quickly got up and headed for the other boat.

“That’d be swell, thanks!”

Damn Boy Scout, of course he has duct tape, Antoine thought.

***

The green light was enough to keep Luke from straying away from the rock wall – the only thing he could see at this depth. The tool markings on the rocks stopped at around 135 feet. He had no idea how far the ravine had been laterally mined of the material. What he’d seen so far indicated that the removal of the rocks was shallow and done by hand.

Luke kept his hands on the walls the whole time during the descent, which he knew was not a proper diving technique, but he didn’t care.

There was very little aquatic life around. Not even much plant life. A few small fish had made their way past him, but no large schools of fish and no tall waving plants. As he descended further, the little plant life dried up to a rocky, barren landscape, which made spotting the flashlight easy. He hit the ocean floor at about 160 feet and snatched up his light. Staying at this depth for any length of time was not safe. The pressure was too high and his air mixture wasn’t made for this depth.

Despite finding his light, his mask started to fog, so he ever so slightly tilted his mask up allowing a small amount of water inside to wash off the lenses. He then purged the mask by holding it tight to his face and blowing air out through his nose. It only served to blur his vision more. It wasn’t fog. It was blood.

His nose was bleeding from the pressure. He needed to get up to 130 feet. His missing bag of rocks would have to wait.

***

“Well, it turns out I don’t have that duct tape after all,” Phil said. “But since you’re clearly a stranded vessel, I can’t detain you for being in these waters. We’ll just forget about your fishing gear, which is still in the water, by the way. I can give you a tow back to the nearest marina.”

“Tow, what in the hell do I need that for?” Antoine said, exasperated. “It’s just a fuel line, I’ll just wrap some towels around it.”

He turned to go back below.

“That won’t hold any pressure on the line you drunk fool,” Phil said, yelling into the bowels of the boat. “It’ll catch fire in no time.”

“Risk I’ll take,” Antoine yelled back, not leaving the cabin. “Thanks for the help.”

“Hold on. Get out here, let’s talk about this,” Phil said. “You can’t be serious about the towel.”

“Serious as a tourist’s sunburn. I can’t get towed into the harbor by your outfit. People might get the wrong idea. I’d be laughed off the island.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You guys are the enforcers for DWO, port of entry, law enforcement. Truth be told, I don’t want to be associated with you guys. Bunch of thugs. At least that’s what they say.”

“Oh, it is huh?”

Antoine was getting the feeling that baring his soul to this guy wasn’t his best idea, but he was running out of stall tactics.

***

Luke continued to clean his mask by clearing and purging water through it. His eyes were burning from the salt water and blood. Then he saw it. The mesh bag. He looped it around the front of his belt this time so he could keep an eye on it. He also attached his last glow stick to it – just in case he dropped it again. He ascended through the narrow walls and up to the top of the ravine, stopping every 20 feet to regulate the pressure on his body. His nose was still bleeding, but the pressure in his head had eased.

He followed the rim of the ravine for just few minutes and saw the two glow sticks he’d left with Kathryn. Finally, he thought, something went right. But as he got closer, he noticed that Kathryn was nowhere to be found. The glow sticks had been moved closer to the edge too. It was certainly possible that she had decided not to wait for him and headed to the surface, but how could he know that for sure? It’s not like she could leave him a note. “Dear Luke, went to the surface, see you there.”

He followed the ridgeline of the ravine in the opposite direction for about 50 yards, then out across the open ravine until he reached the other side. Swimming parallel to his original path he found himself directly across from the flashing glow sticks with no sign of Kathryn. He continued down the edge for what he estimated was another 50 yards then crossed the ravine again.

He knew his ascent would take about 10 minutes and was preparing himself to continue circling the area until his remaining air was just enough to get him to the surface. He owed it to her to do all he could to get her back to the boat. She might have insisted on coming down here, he thought, but he was the one who left her alone. That was a mistake. With the way Kathryn had used up her initial air supply, waiting until his supply was almost gone would probably be too late for her anyway.

What a disaster. This shouldn’t be happening. They came down to the ravine hoping to learn more about his professor’s past, about a medical treatment for paralysis, about a wireless revolution – not to die alone in the cold ocean.

Then, on his third pass, floating just over the ridge of the ravine was Kathryn, spinning in circles, flashlight blinking. He could hear the faint clinking of the light on her tank.

She noticed his approach. Her eyes were wide. He put his palms up and shrugged his shoulders, using his body language to ask, “Where were you?”

She touched her thumbs and forefingers together to form a triangle, making the sign for “boat.”

Yes, he thought to himself, they needed to get to the boat. He checked her air. She was low, but she had more air than he expected. She must have calmed down after the initial shock of being in the water.

They slowly ascended to 15 feet below the surface for their final safety stop. Luke pushed the green button on his communications device. He knew they were about 100 yards from the boat and when they surfaced, they’d have to either swim to it, or signal Antoine to come to them.

A standard safety stop is three minutes. After six minutes of waiting, he’d yet to receive a reply from Antoine. No blinking green light. No blinking red light. Just under 50 minutes had passed since they entered the water. Five minutes over Antoine’s time limit.

The bastard had left them.