The Merlin Effect (10 page)

“Let’s hope it’s calm down there today,” said Jim.

“Up here, too.” Isabella scanned the bank of dark clouds moving in. “I don’t like the looks of those clouds.”

“Nor do I,” agreed Jim. He tugged lightly on Kate’s braid. “See you by sunset. Let’s have Baja Scramble for supper.”

“Be careful,” was all she could manage to say.

He turned to Terry. “Turn us loose anywhere near the second buoy. Then hold tight to the steering wheel! I don’t have to tell you about the wicked currents out there by the whirlpool.”

“No, you don’t.” Suddenly Terry’s face fell. “Damn.”

“What?”

“I can’t stay at the wheel. After I release the submersible, I’ve got to operate my instruments.”

“But you can’t! Someone’s got to steer.”

“Someone else, then. Maybe you should ride on the boat instead of the submersible.”

Jim scowled. “Now wait a minute. This is my opportunity.”

“Mine, too.”

“You can’t do this.”

Terry folded his arms.

“Wait a minute, Dad.” Kate’s own voice surprised her. “I can do it.”

“Do what?”

“Steer the boat. I’ve done it before.”

He caught his breath. For a moment he stared at her, swaying to the rhythm of the rocking vessel, then slowly shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that. We’ll be out there near the…No, Kate, no.”

“You didn’t ask. I volunteered.”

“Sounds like she’s willing,” said Isabella.

Jim observed his daughter, then touched her nose with his finger. “I’m tempted to say thanks.”

“Hold it,” said Terry. “What if the water gets rough? I’ve got my best instruments on board. Are you sure she can handle it?”

Kate’s torso stiffened. “I can handle it.”

“I believe you,” declared Jim. “Let’s get going. You take the wheel when Terry goes to release the cable. Got it?”

She nodded.

“And if the waves get heavy, turn into them. That way you won’t capsize.”

She nodded again.

“And don’t forget to put on your life jacket.”

“All right,” growled Terry. He faced Kate. “Just keep away from my instruments.”

“Let’s go.” Isabella raised her voice above a gust of wind. “The weather’s looking meaner.”

She scampered over the side and down the hatch of the submersible. Jim followed, more awkwardly. An instant later, his hand reached up and pulled the hatch closed with a
clank.

Without a word to Kate, Terry raised the anchor, checked the cable connecting the two crafts, and stepped into the cabin. As he turned on the engine, she cast her eyes toward the rising waves beyond the breakers and the heavy bank of mist beyond. She remembered her life jacket, then realized
it was in the cabin with Terry. She grasped the railing securely, even as the first drops of rain struck her face.

Slowly, the trawler and its gleaming silver cargo slid into the lagoon. On a good day, with a favorable wind, the
Skimmer
could cruise at seven or eight knots. With a heavy load like this, Kate knew, it would be lucky to make half that speed, although that was still faster than the submersible could move under its own power. As she listened to the straining, sputtering engine, she wondered how long it would take before that noise would be joined by the ominous humming she had heard once before.

The water grew increasingly rough as they reached the mangroves. Submerged in high tide, the trees seemed now less a forest than a green labyrinth concealing many dark mysteries. A massive wave slapped the boat, jostling Kate. She staggered to one side, wrapping her hands more tightly around the railing.

Regaining her balance, she saw the last dune come into view. Soon would come the breakers. And beyond…She did not want to think about it. But she could not help herself. Her body tensed, just as another wave flooded the deck, spraying water into the air, soaking her jeans and cotton shirt.

She tried to distract herself by focusing on the submersible, bobbing along behind. How bad was the ride for its passengers? They couldn’t be comfortable in there. What would it be like for them to travel below the surface, way below, where light never shines? Someday, perhaps, she would find out. In another ocean, another time.

The boat shook violently as they entered the breakers, twisting her stomach into knots. Feeling nauseous, she looked toward the lagoon. Shreds of swirling fog had started to consume everything, making the camp less and less visible.
The rain pelted harder. Before long she could see only the top of the flagpole above the mist, then nothing.

As the
Skimmer
chugged past the first buoy, a brown pelican dropped out of the darkened sky. The bird plunged into the frothy waves, surfacing an instant later with a struggling, squirming fish.

Farther from shore, nearer to death.
The words echoed in her head to the cadence of the wheezing engine.
Farther from shore
…

Waves of water, waves of fear. The boat pitched wildly from side to side. Wind roared. Lightning exploded in the air, followed by the rumble of thunder, booming between sea and sky, melding with the humming sound that drifted over the sea.

Terry threw open the cabin door. “It’s time!” he shouted above the storm.

Kate stepped toward him but slipped on the deck, careening some distance before she could catch herself on the railing. She righted herself awkwardly, then stumbled to the doorway.

“Get the wheel,” he commanded. Without closing the door, he hurled himself onto the deck.

Grabbing the steering wheel, Kate twisted the boat into an immense wave just as it swallowed the bow. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Terry crawling the last few feet to the lever mounted at the stern where the cable attached. Once he released it, Isabella could retract the cable and descend.

Bracing herself, she held tight to the wheel despite the violent swaying. Wave after wave crashed against the hull. Yet she remained firmly planted, holding the boat on course.

It’s been more than two minutes, she realized with a start.
Swinging her head toward the stern, she could see Terry struggling to move the lever. He was straining, throwing all his weight into the task. A wave washed over him. He strained still harder. Yet the lever did not budge.

He started to pound at it with the heel of his hand. Then, seeing Kate through the doorway, he called to her.

“The hammer! Bring me the hammer!”

She began letting loose of the helm, when she realized that to do so was to risk a disaster. Grasping the wheel firmly with one hand, she shoved the cabin chair underneath as a brace, scraping her knuckles in the process. She stepped back. It would hold, but not for long.

Pulling her father’s old hammer from the box of tools in the corner, she worked her way across the deck, fighting to stay on her feet. At last she reached the stern and handed Terry the hammer. He smashed the lever several times, to no avail.

Just then a great wave collided with the port side. The metal stand bearing Terry’s instruments slid perilously close to the railing. He leaped to it, hauled it back, then staggered over to Kate.

Mist wrapped around them, so tightly that they could no longer even see the submersible at the other end of the cable. The swells heaved, the
Skimmer
tossed.

Terry raised the hammer to swat again at the jammed lever.

Then a strange thing happened. The cable to the submersible suddenly went slack—from the submersible side. Kate and Terry stared at each other, thunderstruck, knowing there was no way to release the cable from that end.

Kate leaned over the railing, peering into the impenetrable fog. At that instant, a huge wave hit the hull. The boat
lurched sharply. She pitched over the side, though one hand somehow held on to the railing. She hung there, dangling above the raging sea.

“Hellllp!” she wailed. Water sucked at her legs, hauling her downward.

Terry reached his hand toward her, stretching to grab hold. Suddenly he caught sight of his instruments tottering near the edge of the deck. He hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Another wave arched and toppled over the stern. Kate’s grip tore loose, and she tumbled into the sea.

She groped madly for the surface, gasping for air. The pounding in her head merged with a clamorous humming sound that swelled steadily.

Panicked, she tried desperately to swim away from the sound. Away from the whirlpool! More waves tumbled over her, sapping her energy. Her limbs weighed like anchors. The
Skimmer
had vanished in the fog and spray.

Without warning, the water grew calmer. An enormous wave seemed to carry her upward, higher than the ragged surface of the sea. Instead of pounding her, the water swirled past, racing around and around in a great circle. Then, to her horror, she saw that below her a dark, yawning chasm was opening: a huge hole in the middle of the ocean.

The hole drew her nearer. She fought to get away, but the dark center expanded, reaching toward her, pulling her down.

The world started spinning. The gray sky above shrank into a vanishing eye of light, shimmering with the moving mist. Everything whirled faster and faster. A wall of blue rose above her, high as she could see.

Then, all at once, the sky disappeared.

A
twisted train of dreams besieged Kate as she floated in and out of consciousness. Swirling, undulating images swam into view and then burst apart, scattering into grains of sand. Falling! She was falling downward, ever downward…Curling, crashing waves.
Help! I need to breathe!
Falling, spinning, falling, spinning. A family of gray whales, all pouring blood from their severed tails. Someone else, someone she knew.
Dad! Dad, I’m here!
But he could not hear, hidden behind the steel walls of the submersible. Then another figure. Terry.
Reach! Just reach for me!
Still falling…Wispy sails. A sunken ship. Waves, more waves, surging and subsiding, pounding her, twisting her back to the point of breaking. Sudden calm. Dead quiet. Sand on her tongue.

Drenched and bruised, she opened her eyes.

She spat out some sand. With effort, she tried to make herself stand. But the dreadful dizziness returned and she fell back, her head whirling.

For some time she merely lay there, her face in the wet sand, waves gently lapping at her sneakers. When at last the
spinning slowed enough, she resolved to try again. More slowly this time. She slid one arm forward and planted her hand on the sodden ground. Despite the throbbing in her neck, she rolled to her side.

Fog. Fog everywhere.

She rested, gathering her strength, before daring to try to lift her head again. With a groan, she pushed herself to her knees. The dizziness flowed into her brain like water into a broken boat, yet she held her body rigid, unwilling to relinquish her gains. Then the sand started to sway and slide beneath her and she toppled once more.

She turned slowly onto her back. The world continued to swirl, and the ceaseless spinning seemed to exist as much within her mind as without. Again, she perceived the heavy mist surrounding her. And a salty taste on her lips. Or was that, too, just a dream? Fog curled and billowed, wrapping around her, covering the surface of this little island where she now lay. If indeed it was an island.

Gazing upward at the shifting clouds, she became conscious of a sound. Humming like an army of engines, it seemed omnipresent, coming from everywhere and yet nowhere in particular. It reminded her of the whirlpool’s dreadful droning, while at the same time it was somehow different. Then the clouds grew thicker, racing around with increasing speed. Everything she could see began to rotate, whirling endlessly, as if she were stranded in the middle of a cyclone.

Dizzy again, she grasped the ground with both hands, squeezing the sand in her fists. Sheets of mist flowed past, shielding her from the twisting clouds above. All the while the humming sound persisted, vibrating in her ears.

Concentrating on every movement, no matter how small,
she rolled to one side and clambered to a kneeling position.
As long as I don’t move too fast, maybe
…She rested awhile, then gradually, painfully, lifted herself to her feet.

She took a wobbly step, surveyed her surroundings. The rolling fog obscured all beyond a few yards. This island seemed to be nothing but a low, sandy mound, without much color and without a single tree, bush, or blade of grass. The only vegetation she could see was a purplish algae that rimmed the shore, glistening in the watery light.

Something shiny, half buried in the sand, caught her eye. She stooped to retrieve it, when suddenly the entire island shook with a violent tremor. The ground buckled savagely, knocking her off her feet.

Then, as abruptly as it had struck, the tremor ceased. Kate lay there, tears welling in her eyes.
Am I that weak?
Or did the ground really shake? She tugged lightly on her braid, the way her father so often did.

A deep desire rose within her, a desire to find him, to be with him again. Someplace where the ground didn’t shake, or seem to shake. Someplace out of danger.