FOUR: INTO THE WATER
Through all the mental preparation Charles Offdensen engaged in before entering a war zone, he failed to consider the desert heat. Although late February cooled the Persian Gulf, it was still a fifteen degree jump from Langley, Virginia. Despite that, he wished for one of his regular work suits, just for comfort's sake. Riding a helicopter from Kuwait City over to the southernmost point of Iraq with a battle-worn Sergeant made him painfully aware he didn't belong here. Wearing chocolate chip fatigues in order to blend in didn't help.
He maintained a straight face and square shoulders when his boots hit the sand. Now that Kuwait was cleared of Iraqi troops and the U.S. advanced thus far into enemy territory, soldiers walked around with their guns at ease. Charles himself carried a pistol, but it didn't compare to the automatic rifles more practical for this corner of the world.
Sergeant Fenriz led him to a tented area. "I'll fetch Private Explosion."
Charles took a seat at one end of the table, mentally going over everything he knew thus far. Any attempt to move ships out of the Gulf resulted in freak accidents, triangulated to one spot about fifteen miles south of where he now sat. A team dove below to figure out what happened, and only one soldier came back. Nathan Explosion, barely nineteen, landed in Saudi Arabia in September. Born and raised in Port New Ritchey, Florida, he was the single son of a Vietnam vet and homemaker. Hesitantly marked as a high-functioning autistic, he somehow managed to scrape through public school without that label. Excelled at biology, sports, and keeping his cool in this God-forsaken place. Dominantly a kinaesthetic learner. Quietly spoken, due to combined introverted personality and a motorcycle accident about a year ago that permanently damaged his vocal cords.
. . .Yet enormous. He crouched and squeezed in sideways past the curtain. His craggy, solemn face told a different story from his eyes, which only hinted at apathy. . .make that boredom. He took the only other available seat and nodded in greeting.
"Private, this is Special Agent Offdensen. He's here to talk to you about what happened."
"I already told you everything." 'Damaged' didn't even begin to describe how Nathan's voice sounded.
"And now the CIA wants to hear it."
Nathan stared at Charles, who allowed his uncertainty to manifest solely as an adjustment to his glasses. "Not much to tell. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary."
"Let's start with the ships."
"USS Anvil sprung a fast-acting leak and sunk within three hours. USS Krokus exploded, or something. The Vitus had some kind of malfunction. I dunno. Ships aren't my thing. Why would you ask me about that?"
"What about the diving expedition, then? You went on that, right? May I ask why?"
"Good swimmer, I guess." With the amount of upper body strength Nathan boasted, he'd have to be. "We just volunteered. I dive with my dad occasionally, so I had the experience."
"And what happened down there, to the rest of them?"
Nathan shrugged. "A couple freaked out. Wouldn't calm down, so they used up the rest of their oxygen. Another guy just disappeared. Got separated. The last guy wouldn't go back through the cave. Opted to go down the tunnel, instead."
"What cave?"
"There was one underwater, close to where the Anvil settled. We thought to secure it, just in case there were some enemies hiding in there, but we found it empty. A tunnel did lead back into Iraq, though."
"And even though it could be in use, you let your fellow Private go?"
"We could tell no one's been down there for a very long time."
"Ah. And he still wanted to try his chances?"
"It wasn't an easy cave to get into."
"So you returned all by yourself."
"Yes."
"Humour me, Private. I'm a diver, myself. If I asked to see the cave, would you take me?"
Nathan shrugged. "Sure. But it's pitch black, and pretty tight in places. Would almost be better to get it exploded open, or something."
"I'd rather not wait."
"Whatever you want, I guess."
After a conversation with his CO, Nathan led Charles to shore. They rode to a larger ship about 300 feet off the bay, then transferred over to a different boat. While they travelled south through the gulf, a couple other men helped them into their suits.
A solid six months passed since Charles' last vacation, so he needed a reminder lesson on how to handle the depths. Nathan would stay ahead of him and trail string back to the boat. Unlike the last time he went down, he would be fixed with a light. Charles did his best not to imagine being without. How could Nathan remark so nonchalantly that the other Private kept the only one between them, so that he could more easily maneuver the tunnel?
He couldn't lose his nerve before even getting into the water. Although, he definitely regretted his decision to volunteer. No chance to turn back now, lest he lose all credibility in the eyes of these soldiers. He sought any mirrored anxiety in Nathan, but the kid still appeared bored while he waited for Charles' safety debriefing to end. The issued dagger—just in case they ran into some sort of trouble—spent more time out than in its case attached to Nathan's belt.
"Ready?"
Charles nodded, suddenly feeling sick. Regardless, he followed Nathan down the ladder off the side and took the last breath of fresh air he'd get for a while. The boat's propellor whirred and squealed beneath the surface, fading away along with natural light. Despite Nathan's leisurely pace, Charles busted his ass to keep up. As silence pressed in from all around, Charles kept his focus. His suit withstood a major brunt of the water's weight, but he still felt it in his mind.
Pure darkness, or so he thought. Nathan's light brushed a pole of some sort, then panned to reveal a ghost of the USS Anvil, situated in the Gulf's sandy depths. They carried on past, headed for the port side. Charles never questioned until now how Nathan and the rest of the diving team would know to look beyond the ship, but along with a strange interruption in the current there opened a chasm ahead. For just a few seconds, as they swam underneath the cliff lip hiding this place from being seen at any other angle, Charles closed his eyes. The only thing worse than being separated from the surface by a couple hundred feet of water was an impenetrable layer of rock on top of it.
Charles' light flickered, then died. He steadied himself with a hand against the ceiling while he tried to bring it back to life. Nathan came back to offer a hand, but it was a futile effort.
Nathan pointed back where they'd come from. Back to surface?
Charles shook his head. He'd never come back down if he got to the boat.
Nathan shrugged, turned back inward, and waved at Charles to keep following him. The cave's maw shrunk, the further in they swam. Shadows retreated before Nathan's light as though tails and legs alike belonging to thus far unknown species fled to the rocks. Charles minded the abyss behind him, as well as that Nathan only checked to see he still followed if he left a sufficient gap between tugs on the rope. Besides that sweep of light and ache in the back of his eyes, Charles might as well be a floating ball of consciousness with no body to speak of.
One positive thing about Nathan being such a large person was that where he found a tight fit Charles passed through without qualm. He couldn't believe that Nathan so easily sucked himself in and squeezed between rocks. Charles himself, when all his mental energy didn't go toward making sure he didn't compromise his equipment, wondered how far they'd come since the surface and how far they had yet to go. Not since university did he experience a panic attack, and he wasn't going to start again now. He'd trained himself to stay cool, forget his mortality, and take things as they come. A cave wasn't going to compromise that.
Finally, their path tilted upward and widened again. A rippling fabric appeared before Nathan's light, which Charles rightly assumed as the surface. Gravity's last pull upward and his head breaking came with a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. Still air and Nathan's light unable to touch any wall, ceiling, or rock structure hinted at the size of this place.
"All right?" According to Nathan's tone, they might have just taken the short trek from the helicopter to the tent. Oh, how Charles wished he could've stayed back there.
They kept their direction, heading further north. Eventually, Charles' flippers grazed rock and shore lit up before Nathan. He crawled out, adrenaline having weakened his limbs. Nathan already started disassembling his gear. "Need some help?"
"No, thank you. I'll manage."
Stripped down to his wet suit and footwear, Charles squinted to investigate their surroundings. His visual prescription was pretty mild at 20/50, so he didn't worry about leaving his glasses in the boat. No side of his body cooled, so they couldn't be close to the tunnel. "How far did you explore?"
"Pretty far. I think I remember where the tunnel is."
Nathan tied their rope leading back through the water to a stalagmite, gleaming silver line reminding Charles that he would have to face that all over again. He understood now why Nathan's fellow soldier refused to go back that way. In fact, if there hadn't been a prior expedition with such casualties, Charles too would rather attempt the tunnel. Even with the possibility he'd wind up in front of Saddam Hussein himself.
"There. We should be good." Nathan tied a second rope to hold onto. "Won't get lost in here."
"Any idea how big it is?"
"Not really. Lots of tunnels once we get out of here, but we only really followed the one with the draft."
As they headed in that direction, Charles reminded himself of the purpose for his visit. He needed to find a reason behind the sunken and damaged ships and if that turned out to be a physical threat, he needed to take measures to neutralize it. True, he practiced various forms of martial arts from a very young age—primarily Budo—but his body would be useless against guns. He entertained the possibility that a passion for the supernatural and particular interest in the Bermuda Triangle influenced his superior more than common sense in choosing him for this case. Charles could defend himself with a weapon as well, but that training and subsequent practice became useless down here.
"Do you think we'll find your fellow Private?"
"Hm. Maybe. Not much we could do about it, besides tell Fenriz where he wound up."
"You'd leave him down here?"
"I wasn't given orders to take him back or to bury him. Just to accompany you."
Very literal sense of direction. It made complete sense to Charles that they should recover the body if they had the means. . .but there lay the problem. Dragging a corpse out the way they came in wasn't practical.
Just as Charles feared, a strong repugnant smell teased his nostrils. Nathan merely chuckled, something that threw Charles off. "What's so funny?"
"Kinda reminds me of a pal I got back home."
". . .I see."
It only grew stronger, the further they went. Charles breathed only through his mouth, then covered the lower part of his face when he started to taste it. Completely unfazed, Nathan showed mercy when Charles' eyes watered by stopping. "I think this is about as far as we got before."
"That Private can't have made it too much further. It smells like he's right here."
"Dunno. But I'm not getting any closer. Don't need to, to figure out what happened and where he is."
How did somebody sound so bored about something so disturbing? Had Nathan seen that much in the course of duty? But such a difference separated him from the others, who couldn't maintain eye contact because they needed to constantly scan their surroundings. "Is there anything else of interest down here? If not, I'm prepared to rule out anything to do with this cave as a possible cause."
"Sort of, I guess. Not that it could have anything to do with this."
"What is it?"
"Paintings."
"Paintings," Charles repeated, deadpan. "Ancient cave paintings, you mean? From when? Who?"
Nathan shrugged and led on. They branched off into another tunnel and shortly came upon a rounded dead end. Charles saw nothing special about the place until Nathan got close to the wall and brushed his fingers against barely visible etches. "See? It's a whale."
Back in his undergraduate days at NYU, Charles took an art history class as elective. His professor very briefly covered cave paintings, and only now did Charles wish he'd paid closer attention. "Judging by the age, I'd say it must belong to Mesopotamia. More accurately Sumer, since it was the southernmost region."
"How do you know that shit?"
"I have to know a lot, for my job. This, I'm just hazarding a guess at, based on my limited knowledge of ancient civilizations." Charles trailed his fingers along the etched in water ripples. "Can you shine your light this way? There's more."
The ripples transformed to mountains, before which men riding horses raised their swords to war. Charles followed along to their front lines and squinted at a mass of either dust or clouds. A floating figure in armour and cape towered over them. Nathan didn't need request to direct his light further up, revealing a beard, elongated mouth, and sword.
"Brutal," he commented. "What do you think it is?"
"Not sure. Possibly some sort of myth, or perhaps a demigod. I'm not familiar enough with Mesopotamian culture to say."
Nathan's light panned away. More paintings existed, but they were too high to see.
"Although interesting, I can't surmise a reason why this would bring down a ship when never before has it happened in the Persian Gulf. I believe this cave can be out-ruled with complete confidence. Perhaps the Anvil, Krokus, and Vitus are the results of a strange coincidence."
"Aren't all FBI agents supposed to say that?"
"The CIA, Private. We are quite independent and objective within the government, so what business would I have keeping any knowledge I obtained here from you?"
Nathan shrugged. "Ready to get out of here, then?"
"Lead the way."
Charles dreaded going back through the water, but with a basic idea of how long he'd be underwater and eagerness to be back underway, the USS Anvil appeared again relatively quickly. Sunlight cut through the depths like a sunrise, eventually blinding him when they broached close to the boat they rode out in. He stalled in swimming back so that he could clench his aching eyes shut and allow his rods and cones to gradually readjust. Getting his glasses back and being able to shed the heavy oxygen tanks was the best thing that happened to him all day.
"Got what you need?" Fenriz asked when they reached shore.
"I've seen no reason why any of the accidents or deaths could be connected or otherwise perpetrated by an enemy. Everything seems in order for natural cause."
"So you believe we should be able to deploy our ships?"
"I do, although I recommend waiting to hear from a military official. I will begin my report as soon as I board back for the U.S., so as to hopefully expedite getting you and your men home.
"Goodbye, Private." Charles extended a hand toward Nathan. "And thank you once again for your assistance. It wasn't an experience I'll soon forget."
Charles underestimated Sergeant Fenriz's urgency in getting out of the Gulf, and mistook him for a rational man. While nothing happened as Charles' helicopter flew back to Kuwait City and he got into a car bound for the airport, Fenriz took Charles' speculation to his commanding officer, and as Charles flew over the Mediterranean, the USS Buffalo jerked into motion on its departure from the Kuwaiti shoreline. However, in their haste, no one noticed the leak in the fuel tank, marking her wake. Charles missed news of the resulting explosion, destroying the entire fleet and killing multiple soldiers, by mere minutes as he changed flights in Paris. A muddled report beat him across the Atlantic and circulated through government offices and CIA headquarters. As Charles stepped off the plane in D.C., jetlagged, he couldn't in the least understand why his superior personally met him there with dismissal papers.
