Tomb of Atlantis (12 page)

“Hmm, interesting,”
she said as she slowly turned the ancient artifact.

“What’s interesting?” Jack asked, becoming excited.

“Well, I can’t be sure, but I think I’m seeing ancient hieroglyphics embedded in the face of this urn. I can feel their features as I rub the pick over them,” she replied.

Grabbing Jack’s hand, she said, “Here, touch this area. Do you feel the indentations?”

Jack’s heart raced momentarily as her warm hand touched his. His face began to turn red once again and he forced his mind to concentrate on the urn.

“Yes, I think I do feel the symbols,” he replied. “Can you make any of them out?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. There’s just too much scaling and buildup on the surface. I’m going to need to run this through an acid bath,” Serena said. “With your permission, of course,” she added with a smile.

“Acid bath. How long do you think that might take?”
he asked.

“Well, this urn’s been down there a long time.
It’s in pretty bad shape. In fact, I can’t even begin to guess from what culture it belongs to. I’m guessing it could take least a couple of weeks. Is that Ok with you?” she responded.

“Hm, I didn’t plan on being down here that long. Any way to speed things up?”

“Well, in the area you already cleared, I might be able to clean away enough build-up and scaling to make identification sooner, but I wouldn’t even think about working on the rest until it’s been properly treated. I know I said it’s in bad shape, but I do think it’s worth preserving.”

Jack thought for a moment, then said, “Looks like I don’t have much of a choice. I do have a couple more dives to do, so maybe I’ll get lucky and you can get it done sooner.
”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Serena replied, then asked, “Speaking of dives, where did you find this?
The area around the islands has been picked clean by divers over the years, so it’s pretty exciting that you found a spot that hasn’t been visited yet.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it was around the island, per se. I found it about fifty miles off shore to the southeast, in a hundred feet of water,”
he responded.

“Fifty
miles
?” Serena blurted out with surprise. “What would make you look for something that far out?”

“It’s a long story. I basically found the area by chance,” Jack said.

“I’d like to hear more about this ‘chance area’ if you don’t mind, Jack,”
she replied.

Jack spent the next half hour conveying the details of his climbing adventure in Peru several years before, that led up to his latest adventure. Captivated and enthralled, she listened to every word Jack spoke. When he was finished, she sat back in her chair and pondered the details.

“Wow, Jack, you’ve had quite an adventure. That’s an amazing story,” she complimented.

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from,”
he joked, now bravely flirting.

“Yes… well, if I need more, I’ll let you know,” Serena replied, delicately rejecting Jack’s subtle advance.

Hiding the pain of rejection, he refocused on the urn.

“So you think you might have something in a couple of days?” he asked.

“It’s a day by day process. There’s no telling how long or how short it will be. If you want, you could stop by tomorrow and check the progress, say around four-ish?” she responded.

“It’s a date
,” Jack replied.

“It’s an appointment,” Serena corrected, with a cordial smile.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING
:

Jack’s eyes snapped open as he lay on the couch in the pilot’s lounge. Bringing his cheap digital watch to his face, he pressed a button on its side and lit up the dial.

“Four fifty-four,” he said to himself softy.

Jack had gone to sleep early the previous night, but the mounting excitement of the urn’s origin and the anticipation of the next day’s dive, caused him to toss and turn nearly all night long.

“Well, no time like the present,” he said aloud.

After obtaining a weather briefing and a cup of stale coffee, he readied himself and the plane for an early morning departure. Having downed two cups and a package of vending machine donuts, he made one last check of the weather and wave reports and headed out to the plane.

Standing on the tarmac of general aviation parking, he breathed in the balmy ocean air that blew in just beyond the end of the runway. With an orange glow that was breaking just above the horizon, he felt invigorated as he took a moment to enjoy the picturesque scenery.

Suddenly, the serenity was broken as a car horn blared from behind. Startled by the early morning intrusion,
he spun around quickly to investigate the offending sound. With his arm extended from the car window, Moses Rankin waved a morning salutation to Jack.

“What in the blazes are you doing up so early, Jack
?” Moses hollered playfully from inside his car.

Moses drove up into the restricted parking zone and parked next to Jack. He flung open his door and carefully worked his old, tired body out of his seat. Standing now, he continued his mock interrogation.

“I oughta give you a good kick in the seat. Those damn dives are dangerous enough without you short-changing what your body needs most: and that’s a good night’s sleep,” he chastised. “What’re doing up so dang early for?”

“Well, good morning to you
too, Moses,” Jack replied with a great toothy smile, purposely ignoring Moses’ remonstrations.

Switching gears, Moses turned his attention to another topic.

“So, did you see Javier Arista yesterday?”

“Not really. I did meet his assistant
, Serena, though. She’s handling the clean-up of the urn… told me to stop by later on today. She thinks she might have some of the urn’s surface exposed by then,” Jack replied, then added, “The suspense is killing me.”

“Ah, Serena. She’s a good kid. She’ll do a great job. Her father taught her everything he knows, and then some,” Moses responded.

“Her father? Who's her father?”

“Son, did someone drop you on your head a child?” Moses joked, then continued, “Javier
is
her father. Who else do you think she’d be working for?”

“Oh, I get it…” Jack replied simply, feeling a bit embarrassed

“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that there are a couple of storms brewing off the coast of Africa. This is hurricane season by the way, so you'd better keep a watchful eye on the weather," he said in a firm tone.

"Yeah, I saw them when I got my weather report this morning. They could take a couple of weeks to get here, so I'm not worried," Jack replied, nonchalantly.

"Not worried?" he shot back with heightened intensity. "Jack, hurricanes are nothing to fool around with. Their effects can be felt long before they reach us."

"I understand, but I'm figuring I should be long gone by the time they get here," Jack responded
confidently.

"I've lived here most of my life and have seen the effects they've had on boaters that didn't account for their long reach. Violent storms can crop up out of nowhere because of it and if you're out there when that happens, it could easy capsize your plane," Moses explained.

"I'll make sure I stay observant," he replied, placating Moses with his response.

As he finished preflighting his plane, Moses stood by and watched. Jack could sense his eyes with every move he made. He knew Moses had more to say but was having trouble putting it into words.

"Moses, you look like something's on your mind. Is there something else you wanted to say?" Jack asked, now directly facing Moses.

Struggling to find the words, Moses opened his mouth several times but made no sound. Seeing the worry in his friend's eyes, Jack placed his hand on Moses' shoulder and spoke some simple words of consolation.

"Moses, I know this is a dangerous trip and I know you’re worried about that fact. I promise you I won't be taking any unnecessary chances. I value my life way too much to take all of this lightly," he said.

Moses stared back at him
. He clearly wanted to say more, but something held him back. With a simple nod, he accepted Jack's response. There was nothing more he could do.

Getting back into his car, he rolled down his window.

"So what time do you plan on being back," he asked.

"No later than ten o'clock," Jack replied confidently.

Placing his car in gear, he nodded a goodbye to Jack and drove off.

Atlantis - Chapter 7

With his gear loaded into the plane, he set his GPS's to the previous dive's location and started the engine. He gave a short burst of power and brought the small float plane to a roll. Jack looked out his window and waved a goodbye to Moses.

Standing just past the wing with his arms folded, Moses watched with disconcerted eyes. Jack read the expression on his face. It was the same expression his parents wore as he was leaving just days before and reminded him that he needed to call when he returned.

As Moses watched him enter the taxiway, he uttered a simple sentence: “Stay safe.”

Lined up on the runway, Jack advanced the throttle to “full” and felt his plane inch down the tarmac. Moments later, he hauled back on the control stick and watched the ground fall away. He turned onto his course and noted the time:

“Seven
-o-eight.”

Ten minutes later, flying along at three thousand feet,
he admired the morning. Bright, warm, and cloudless, it was a picture perfect day. Looking down at the sea below, the surface seemed almost glass-like.

“No wind... Yes
ss!” he called out to himself. “What a great day to fly.”

As he did in his previous flight, he watched civilization slowly disappear the farther he flew from land, leaving him alone in the middle of the vast ocean. Aside from the occasional white caps, his only entertainment came from watching the sun’s rays
reflect off the ocean's surface.

He took out his binoculars and scanned the horizon. Flying now for forty-five minutes, he knew somewhere out there was his buoy. Searching in a narrow band beyond the plane's nose, the tiny buoy was still undetectable.

Jack began his descent. He pushed the stick forward and reduced his power slightly, changing the plane’s angle from straight and level to a five-hundred-foot-per-minute descent. With the nose of the plane angled dramatically downward, it gave him a commanding view of the ocean below.

Moments later, while looking through his binoculars,
his heart started to race. There, less than a mile away, was the red and white buoy floating in the water, guiding him in for a pinpoint landing.

“Like shooting fish in a barrel,” he remarked at how easy his task had become.

Jack lowered his water rudder, reduced power, and watched the horizon as a means to gauge his descent. Scanning continuously between his altimeter and the horizon, he slowly crept closer to the water. Little by little, he watched the feet slowly tick away as he descended.

Jack felt the first touch of water pass through the floats. With intense concentration, he watched the horizon and reduced power again. Slightly harder this time, another small wave rolled through the floats once more. Holding the a
ltitude of the plane stable, he continued to bleed off power, letting the plane plow through the oncoming obstacles until the occasional strike felt like a continuous pounding.

In seconds, the plane settled into the water, skimming along the top at a brisk speed.
He cut the power and used his water rudders to steer him at the looming buoy ahead of him.

With the buoy firmly secured by an anchor, Jack extended a gaff into the water and waited to hook the anchor line from the previous flight. As long as he wasn't traveling too fast, the hookup would be an easy procedure. Unfortunately, Jack's speed was slightly faster than he anticipated.

Taking corrective action, he opened both doors to the plane as wide as he could hold them open, creating aerodynamic breaking. While he did, he alternated between pressing right rudder and left rudder, trying to induce further drag on the floats.

Coming up on the buoy, with his speed dramatically slowing, Jack extended the gaff into the water and watched as it plowed along the surface. Carefully, he guided the hook to the exact path the buoy would pass through.

“Here it comes,” he said excitedly.

The buoy slipped past the nose of the plane and under the wing. Jack braced himself and stabbed at the rope as it moved behind the buoy.

“Got it. Yes!” he yelled out.

Suddenly, as the buoy came taut against the gaff, it began to pull
he out of the plane. Lodging his legs into the doorway, he hung on with all his strength as the weight of the plane carried it forward.

Desperate to hang on, he forced a tighter grip on the gaff.
The plane spun around in the water and came to a slow stop. Jack pulled on the gaff and reeled the buoy in closer, then hooked a line of rope to it and the wing strut.

“Phew, that was interesting,” Jack said to himself sarcastically. “Probably not the best plan in the world.”

Having secured the plane to the anchor, he climbed out on the float and sat for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Staring into the water below, he knew this was his moment of truth, the moment that would define him forever. He swallowed hard and began to prepare for his dive.

With his wetsuit on and all his gear readied, he sat on the edge of his float and stared down in the darkness. Once again, fear of the unknown created irrational thoughts in his mind. The ocean below him held immense beauty, but now, all he could envision was the fabled sea serpents reported by ancient
mariners hundreds of year ago. With his fins dangling in the water, his mind played frightening tricks on him as slight variations in the depths below transformed into savage creatures tearing flesh from his bones.

Shaking the figment from his thoughts, Jack looked up and viewed the scene around him. Looking out over the vast expanse of nothingness, he forced the irrational fear from his mind and focused on the serenity of the moment. With the early morning seas showing barely a ripple, the tranquil sounds of water lapping the floats helped to put his mind at ease. He forgot his fears of the deep and kicked off the float and into the water. Refocusing on the task at hand, he marked his time, took a large breath of air from his regulator and dipped beneath the surface.

Jack felt the rush of excitement as he descended. The unknown had now become the known, all but relieving any stress he had felt on the first dive. Following the rope downward, hand over hand, he quickly passed his reserve tank that hung at fifteen feet below the surface. A minute later, he passed by the seventy-five foot marker he had placed on the rope before the trip.

Looking around, Jack took notice of the
visibility: nearly forty feet - slightly better than the previous dive. He felt good that the added visibility would aid in finding the golden artifact.

He descended further down the rope. Passing the fifty foot marker, he was now in that area of limbo where he could see neither the surface nor the bottom. If it were not for the bubbles of air ascending toward the surface, he would have trouble determining which way was up.

Jack stopped a moment and switched on his flashlight. Flooding the area in front of him, he still could not see the bottom. Kicking hard, he looked down the rope and spotted the twenty-five foot marker. He knew he'd be seeing the bottom shortly.

Ignoring the marker on the rope,
he now concentrated on the ocean floor. Focusing intently below, he began to see fuzzy edges and nondescript shapes. With his heart continuing to pound, he kicked firmly and swam faster. Instantly, the world below popped into focus.

With the rope reaching to the ocean's floor, he scanned its length to the bottom, locating the anchor wedged between large boulders. Holding his gauges in hand, he stopped himself at the ten foot level. Kicking his fins, he swam in the direction of his planned course.

Jack moved along quickly and efficiently, scanning the ocean floor as he passed barnacle-encrusted boulders and long strands of seaweed. Between the boulder fields were tracts of sand that gave light to the area, helping him to see, reducing the need for his flashlight.

Nearly twenty minutes had passed and Jack had seen nothing. The longer he swam, the more discouraged he became. He could almost feel his dreams vanishing before his eyes. Looking down at his gauges, he knew it was time to turn back.

“Darn it,” he called out in frustration. “Where is it? I know it’s here somewhere.”

Jack continued his search for few more minutes, then turned around. He tried to stay positive, but with each boulder he passed without a sighting, he grew more pessimistic. Before he knew it, he was nearing the end of his dive, with the anchor rope now visible twenty feet up ahead.

“This sucks,” he said through his regulator, sending a large stream of bubbles to the surface. “Now what?” he continued, resigning himself to failure.

Jack checked his gauges. He swam the return trip in half the time.

“I’ve got some extra time here,” he said to himself.

He looked beyond the anchor
to where he dove the day before.

“That’s where I found the urn. I’m betting there’s more stuff over there in that area,” he continued.

Jack kicked hard and within seconds, swam past the anchor. Paying out rope from his towline, he maintained the same course as the previous day.

Suddenly, he spotted the shallow ridge-line that had held the urn. Feeling energized, he kicked his fins and moved quickly over the path of elevated rocks. With intense focus, he scanned both sides of the ridge, looking for anything out of character for the surrounding area.

Moments later, Jack came upon the scarred sight where he had removed the urn the previous day. The freshly removed barnacles were easy to spot from their lighter color. Examining the area once more, he could see the shape of the other urns buried under the heavy cover of barnacles and other crustaceans.

“This is the spot. There’s got to be something else here,” he said to himself.

Looking around, he made one last search for the golden pyramid. Pointing his flashlight to the extent of his visibility, he moved the beam of light closer with each pass until the area had been cleared. He continued the process until he had made a three-hundred and sixty degree rotation about his position.

“Dammit!
” he yelled in frustration.

Checking his gauges once more, he knew he had very little time left to stay and search. Resigning himself to failure, he gave up looking for the pyramid, but wasn’t ready to leave empty handed.

“How ‘bout one of those urns,” he said to himself, now feeling excited once more.

Positioning himself slightly below the ridge-line, he stabbed and pulled at the barnacles, trying to remove enough to dislodge one of the urns.

“Almost there,” he called out as he worked.

Looking for more leverage, he high stepped over the boulder that held the
ancient artifact, and placed his fin on the other side, effectively straddling the ridge-line. In a split second, his foot skated forward as if on ice and he fell over the boulders and rolled onto his back.

“Go
ddammit!” he yelled out in anger. “What the
hell
was that?”

Quickly,
he rolled onto his stomach and then up onto his knees to a sitting position. Looking around, he made sure he hadn't lost anything in the fall. Shining the light around the area, he saw something sticking out from under the rocky barnacles that held the urns.

“
What the hell is that
?” he thought.

Leaning over the rock, he bent down and touched a clear crystal cylinder. Nearly five inches in diameter and sticking out from the rock by a foot, it was the perfect tripping hazard. Looking more closely now,
he could see the top surface had been wiped clean.

“So that’s what I slipped on,” he figured.

Checking his watch, he had very little air left in his tank. He decided to try and remove the cylinder. Grabbing it with both hands, he shook it lightly. To his surprise, the cylinder moved a bit.

“Must have loosened it in the fall,”
he surmised.

He moved to the front of it cylinder and pulled hard. Like a peg through a round hole, the cylinder pulled straight out of the rocks, causing Jack to fall over backwards as he lost his balance. Like before,
he rolled over onto his knees to a sitting position, then stood up with the crystal cylinder still in his hand.